The Lightning Thief: Annabeth
by silverblaze011
Summary: Annabeth Chase is about to have her life ripped from her hands. Everything she thought she knew is about to alter. When a storm brings in a new demigod, her life will change forever. For better or for worse? She's yet to find out. PJO: Annabeth's POV
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Percy Jackson and The Olympians. I sure wish I did, but, alas... Anyway, enjoy!**

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I was walking through Camp Half Blood when the Iris Message came.

"Annabeth!" A familiar voice exclaimed. I stopped mid- stride and looked around, only to find an image of Grover, my good satyr friend, peering at me through a hazy window of mist.

"Grover!" I almost ran to hug him when I remembered that would disconnect the line. "What's up?"

"Uh," He looked around nervously; I just noticed that he was in a cramped shower stall. "I'm at Yancey. Annabeth, you'll never believe what just happened! The demigod I've been following… well, uh…" He trailed off and looked down at his fake- feet.

"What is it, Grover?"

"He was attacked…" He admitted shamefully. "By a Fur- uh, Kindly One disguised as a teacher. Alecto, to be specific. Annabeth, I've failed again!" He let out a large bleat and twirled his curly mop of hair.

"Grover, you have not!" I said, trying to comfort him. He'd been awfully fragile emotionally ever since our good friend, Thalia, was turned into a pine tree by her father, Zeus, after she gave her life defending us. Grover, being the assigned protector, had blamed himself for all these years.

Grover just sniffled, not believing me at all. "Well, anyway, he's okay. Chiron should be there tonight. I should be bringing him in to camp soon."

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Percy Jackson." Grover replied, still looking gloomy.

"Alright, Grover. Thanks for the heads up. See you soon."

"Hey, G-Man?" A boy's voice said. It sounded eerily familiar. "What are you doing in there? You know you don't have to hide from Nancy. What'd she do this time?"

"Nothing, Percy." Grover said and sighed. He mouthed _bye _and slashed his hand through the mist, ending the call.

I continued on my way towards the arena, where I was going to meet Luke for sword practice. I couldn't stop thinking about the half-blood that Grover had found. Why was his voice so familiar? I knew he had to be important, but I didn't know how. That frustrated me; I hated being left in the dark.

I passed our strange array of cabins, ranging from the cheerful flower-covered cabin of Demeter, with its grassy thatched roof and numerous gardens, to the less-than-picturesque Ares cabin, which was splattered with blood- red paint and barbed wire.

I eventually came to the arena. I walked in and found Luke, my best friend at camp, slashing straw dummies with amazing grace. His blond hair glittered in the afternoon sun, and even his infamous scar seemed cute today, the one he'd gotten on his quest to the Garden of the Hesperides two years ago. His bright orange Camp Half Blood shirt clung to his skin, and I stopped for a moment, just staring. I was admiring his exquisite technique, or at least, that's what I told myself.

After he decapitated the last poor Greek dummy, he turned to me and smiled a blinding grin. I tried to hide my blushing and get a hold of myself.

"Ready?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Alright, then."

I unsheathed my trusty knife and walked to the center of the clearing. He attacked right away, catching me off guard. I yelped and quickly rolled out of the way. I slashed at his torso, but it harmlessly clanged off his armor. Using my trusty knife, I went in for a jab in his right, and the feinted to then left and swung, but he anticipated the generic move and easily sidestepped. I cursed under my breath. _Think, Annabeth! _ I screamed at myself. _Be clever!_

He brought down his sword, aiming right for my head. I ducked and rolled, just slightly missing Luke's blade. I leaped behind him and rolled between his legs, slashing his ankle. He cursed. I jumped up and held my knife to his neck. He stopped, breathing heavily.

"You've gotten better," He said approvingly. His voice lingered in my ears. I could smell the sweat on his neck, and I lost focus. Being so close to him was overpowering. His eyes were staring into mine…

Suddenly, he twisted so fast out of my grip that I couldn't do much more than ogle at the glinting blade now notched at my throat.

"But you've still got some kinks in your armor." He smirked and lowered the blade, tossing me a water bottle.

I caught it and drank, thinking how foolish it was that I'd lost. All because of a little look! I was disgusted with myself.

"Again tomorrow?" I asked, wiping the sweat off my brow.

"Sure thing, Annabeth." He replied.

A conch horn blew in the distance. "Dinner time." I announced obviously. We made our way to the dining pavilion, where I sat down at the Athena table with my fellow siblings, while Luke went to sit with the Hermes table. On my plate appeared a slice of olive pizza and my goblet filled with diet coke. I got up, like everyone else, and scraped a bit of the pizza into the bronze brazier.

_ O please, Lady Athena, accept my offering,_ I silently prayed. When I sat back down at my table, I listened absently as my siblings discussed battle plans for the capture the flag planned for this Friday. I couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious demigod Grover had found; why was his voice so dang familiar?

Before long, dinner was over and I made my way back to my cabin, a mildly tall gray stone building. Its intricate carvings were delicate but prominent; a stone owl hung over the white door, watching me. Once inside, I immediately dozed off, and was engulfed in a strange dream.

_ I was standing in a tall, marble room, bathed in shadows. The room was grand and filled with thrones, occupied by giant beings. And then I realized I was not alone. Standing next to me, so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body, was a familiar gangly boy. I glanced at his mop top of hair and the Rasta cap slung over the mess of curls to disguise the horns that I knew were there: Grover. I was so happy to see I almost cried out, but I was being held back by a strange, invisible force. _

_ On my right was an unfamiliar boy, with dark, black hair and deep green eyes. When he turned to look at me, I stopped breathing. At once, I knew he was somehow important._

_ In front of us were all the gods, each sitting on their own personalized thrones. Zeus sat at his rightful place at the head, with Hera to his right. All the other gods sat around him. Zeus and Poseidon seemed to be arguing. _

"_I don't have it!" Poseidon yelled._

"_Then who else took it?" Zeus roared. "Who did you manipulate to get—"_

"_I didn't use anyone, Zeus! I did not take it, nor do I have it!"_

"_You dare to sit here and lie to my face?" The other gods shifted uncomfortably._

"_I am not lying!" Poseidon insisted. _

"_I do not believe you." Zeus sat back, visibly fuming. "You have until the summer solstice to return it to me, or I swear I will blast you to smithereens!"_

_ And then my dream faded to darkness._

I woke up in the middle of the night, cold sweat dotting my brow. I sat up so fast my head banged against the bunk above me. Wincing, I quickly slipped on a pair of jeans and my orange Camp shirt, and slipped out into the night, trying not to run too fast to the Big House. I had to talk to Chiron about the solstice, and what it was a deadline to. Thunder rumbled as I sprinted up the steps to the chipping red farmhouse. Chiron had arrived from Yancey sometime last night, and answered the door when I knocked.

He had a sleepy look on his face. "Annabeth? What's wrong?" He trotted out onto the porch, his hooves clopping against the wood.

"Chiron, what is happening on the solstice?"

He hesitated, uncomfortably shifting on his hooves. "How did you know?" Chiron looked perplexed, but his attention tore away from me when a loud bout of thunder interrupted us. His old eyes fixed behind me, and I twirled to see a giant beast, easily seven feet tall, fighting a boy on Half Blood Hill. Intrigued and alarmed, I watched. Rain pelted down, making it difficult to see. But I saw enough. There were two people trudging up the hill, carrying a limp body between them. They split up, the boy sprinting to the left, and the taller one, an adult, I assumed, staggered off to the right to set down the body.

The beast, the Minotaur, I could now see, charged the boy. The boy stayed still for a painstakingly long moment, and then jumped to the side. The Minotaur stormed past and bellowed ferociously when it didn't hit the boy. I couldn't help but be impressed with this boy's bravery; he didn't look much older than myself and that kind of fearlessness didn't come with age. I wondered who this newcomer was… Maybe this was Percy Jackson?

A roar awoke me from my transfixed thoughts. The Minotaur barreled past the boy, who was expecting a full-on attack, and went straight to the adult, grabbing her in his fists. The adult, a woman, struggled but to no avail. Suddenly, in a burst of golden light, she disappeared. A mortal, no doubt.

"No!" I heard someone scream in a devastated manner. The boy stripped off his red jacket and waved it in front of him like a matador. He yelled something that I didn't catch, and the Minotaur came running forward. With remarkable skill, the boy leaped up and landed on the Minotaur's shoulders. The beast swung him around, and then, unexpectedly, a sickening crack filled the air. The dazed boy was holding a horn from the Minotaur. The infuriated beast flung the boy through the air as easily as if he were a rag doll. On his back and visibly weak, the monster charged but as soon as it got close, the boy stabbed the Minotaur with its own horn and the beast disintegrated.

It was silent for a moment, the only sound being the steady rounds of thunder. The boy then picked up the crumpled body and staggered down the valley, toward the Big House, calling for his mother. It was heartbreaking.

I watched as he came, closer and closer, to the Big House. He was incredibly weak; I offered to help him, but Chiron insisted that he must do this alone.

When he arrived, he collapsed on the wooden porch, and I realized the body he'd been carrying was Grover. I then looked at the boy, and I gasped. His vibrant, green eyes looked around blindly, too exhausted to see anything. His jet- black hair was matted with mud and sweat. This boy was the one Grover had been talking about. This was the boy from my dream. This boy was Percy Jackson.

"He's the one." I breathed. "He must be."

"Silence, Annabeth." Chiron scolded. "He's still conscious. Bring him inside."


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER: I do not, in any way, shape, or form, own Percy Jackson and The Olympians. Enjoy!**

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We set down Percy Jackson in one of the bedrooms, where I fed him ambrosia. He grumbled and moaned about every two seconds, dreaming about who-knows-what. I smirked at his confused expression, and then he opened his eyes. Taking this as an opportunity, I quickly asked, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

He just looked confused and ready to pass out again. "What?"

I looked around to see if Chiron was listening; he'd never allow me asking this. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

He looked at me blankly. "I'm sorry," He mumbled. "I don't…"

There was a knock on the door, and I quickly filled his mouth with ambrosia. Percy, as if on cue, immediately fell back asleep. "Come in," I said quietly.

Argus, the body guard, came in and motioned for me to get out. The eyes covering his body all blinked at once, giving off a cool, psychedelic effect. He stood in a corner, keeping watch. I slipped out. I couldn't find Chiron to talk about my dream, so I grudgingly settled for archery practice.

Two days later, I made my way to the Big House. A warm breeze flew through, and the Long Island Sound glittered in the distance. I climbed the steps and found Chiron and Mr. D positioned around a card table, playing pinochle. I leaned against the porch railing and watched as Mr. D shuffled the cards. I was dying to ask Chiron about my dream, but I was only too aware of Mr. D, who I would want gone to discuss this with Chiron.

Moments later, Grover came around the bend, a drowsy Percy wobbling behind. In his hands was a shoebox, something clanging around hollowly inside. Grover whispered something to him, and Percy's eyes were filled with recognition.

"Mr. Brunner!" He exclaimed. Chiron turned around to smile at Percy.

"Ah, good, Percy," Chiron said. "Now we have four for pinochle."

Chiron offered Percy the chair to the right of Mr. D, who sighed a little more dramatically than necessary.

"Oh, I suppose I must say it," He said. "Welcome to Camp Half- Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be happy to see you." Percy scooted a little farther away from Mr. D. I smiled at him; he sure had a lot to learn about this tiger-print-clad god.

"Annabeth?" Chiron said to me, and then turned to the boy. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, dear, why don't you go check on Percy's bunk? We'll be putting him in cabin eleven for now.

"Sure, Chiron." I replied. I looked at Percy; his emerald green eyes had bags underneath them, and his jet- black hair stood up at odd angles, but he looked pretty renewed for someone who'd just slain a beast and passed out for two days. He seemed to be studying me, too. I glanced at his Minotaur horn, and saw the expectant gleam in his eyes, like he was hoping I'd congratulate him.

Instead, still jittery about my odd dream, I said, "You drool when you sleep." And ran down the lawn, towards cabin eleven. When I approached, I knocked on the door and peeked in.

The cabin was extremely crowded, like usual. Numerous bunks were pushed together to make room, and sleeping bags littered the floor. I surveyed the ruckus, and found a small area of available floor that Percy would probably be the not-so-proud owner of very soon. I closed the door and opened my bag, where I pulled out a book on Greek architecture. I sat down in the grass and read.

I was reading an interesting piece on the Corinthian order, and how it was used in making the famous Pantheon, when I heard the familiar muffled clopping of hooves on grass. I looked up and found Chiron coming towards us with Percy following.

When they arrived, I looked over Percy critically. How was he associated with my dream, and what did he have to do with the summer solstice? Not having any answers to these questions, I stood up.

"Annabeth," Chiron said. "I have masters' archery class at noon. Would you take Percy from here?"

"Yes, sir." I responded. So I was stuck with the mystery dream boy; great.

"Cabin eleven," Chiron told Percy, gesturing toward the building. "Make yourself at home."

Percy studied the worn, peeling cabin. He eyed the caduceus questioningly. He peered in the door, not looking too enthusiastic to be sharing a cabin with these loud campers.

"Well, then." Chiron said. "Good luck, Percy. I'll see you at dinner."

He galloped away toward the archery range. Percy stood there, unmoving, for a couple moments.

"Well?" I prompted. "Go on."

I leaned in the doorway as Percy walked in, tripping over the threshold. There were some snickers, but the other campers had gone silent, looking at the new boy expectantly.

"Percy Jackson, meet cabin eleven." I announced.

"Regular or undetermined?" Someone asked. I sighed, knowing the answer I was going to give wasn't going to make anyone happy.

"Undetermined." I stated. There was a collective groan from the whole cabin. Luke came forward, to the rescue. I smiled.

"Now, now, campers." He said. "That's what we're here for. Welcome, Percy. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there." He pointed to the exact same spot I predicted would be Percy's.

"This is Luke." I tried to hide the affection in my voice, but Percy looked over anyway. I hardened my face into an emotionless expression. "He's your counselor for now."

"For now?" Percy asked.

"You're undetermined." Luke explained patiently. "They don't know what cabin to put you in, so you're here. Cabin eleven takes all newcomers, all visitors. Naturally, we would. Hermes, our patron, is the god of travelers."

Percy eyed the small spot of floor that was now his. "How long will I be here?"

"Good question," Luke answered. "Until you're determined."

"How long will that take?" Gods, this boy asked a lot of questions. The whole cabin laughed.

"Come on," I said, trying to pull him away from laughter. I remembered being new, and being laughed at didn't help the transition, even if the questions he was asking were silly. "I'll show you the volleyball court."

"I've already seen it."

"Come on." I grabbed his wrists and dragged him outside.

When we were a few feet away, I said, "Jackson, you have to do better than that."

"What?"

I rolled my eyes. How could he be the one to help Zeus with his mysterious dilemma if he didn't know how to act? I muttered under my breath, "I can't believe I thought you were the one."

"What's your problem?" Percy asked, growing angry. "All I know is, I kill some bull guy—"

"Don't talk like that!" I scolded; astounded that he was so nonchalant about this. "You know how many kids at this camp wish they had your chance?"

"To get killed?"

"To fight the Minotaur! What do you think we train for?"

Percy shook his head. "Look, if the thing I fought really was _the_ Minotaur, the same one in the stories…"

"Yes."

"Then there's only one."

"Yes."

"And he died, like, a gajillion years ago, right? Theseus killed him in the labyrinth. So…"

"Monsters don't die, Percy." I sighed; how was I going to explain this to him? "They can be killed. But they can't die."

"Oh, thanks. That clears it up." He said sarcastically.

"They don't have souls, like you and me. You can dispel them for a while, maybe even a whole lifetime if you're lucky. But they are primal forces. Chiron calls them archetypes. Eventually, they re- form."

"You mean if I killed one, accidentally, with a sword—"

"The Fur…" I caught myself from saying _Fury_. Even thinking it, I was suddenly paranoid that the old hags themselves would appear out of nowhere. "I mean, your math teacher. That's right. She's still out there. You just made her very, very mad."

"How did you know about Mrs. Dodds?" He asked accusingly, like I was poking through his memories without his permission.

"You talk in your sleep."

"You almost called her something." He noticed. "A Fury? They're Hades' torturers, right?"

I glanced nervously at the ground. Did he have to call them out? The same paranoid feeling I'd had a moment ago revisited. "You shouldn't call them by name, even here. We call them the Kindly Ones, if we have to speak of them at all."

"Look, is there anything we can say without it thundering?" Percy asked, a little whiny. "Why do I have to stay in cabin eleven, anyway? Why is it so crowded together? There are plenty of empty bunks right over there."

I turned a little pale. "You don't just choose a cabin, Percy. It depends on who your parents are. Or… your parent."

I stared at him, waiting for it to click. It didn't.

"My mom is Sally Jackson. She works at the candy store in Grand Central Station. At least, she used to."

"I'm sorry about your mom, Percy." I said truthfully. "But that's not what I mean. I'm talking about your other parent. Your dad."

"He's dead. I never knew him."

I heaved a huge sigh. Of course he wouldn't get it. I just wished some of the new campers actually put it all together. "Your father's not dead, Percy."

"How can you say that? Did you know him?"

"No, of course not." I answered calmly.

"Then how can you say—"

"Because I know_ you_. You wouldn't be here if you weren't one of us."

"You don't know anything about me." He said defiantly.

"No?" I raised an eyebrow. Another challenge, accepted. "I bet you moved around from school to school. I bet you were kicked out of a lot of them."

"How—"

But I was on a roll. "Diagnosed with dyslexia. Probably ADHD, too."

I could see him growing embarrassed. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Taken together, it's almost a sure sign. The letters float off the page when you read, right? That's because your brain is hardwired for ancient Greek. And the ADHD—you're impulsive, can't sit still in a classroom. That's your battlefield reflexes. In a real fight, they'd keep you alive. As for the attention problems, that's because you see too much, Percy, not too little. Your senses are better than a regular mortal's. Of course the teachers want you medicated. Most of them are monsters. They don't want you to see them for who they are."

Percy looked a little overwhelmed. "You sound like… you went through the same thing?"

"Most of the kids here did. If you weren't like us, you couldn't have survived the Minotaur, much less the ambrosia and nectar."

"Ambrosia and nectar." Percy repeated, looking more than a little confused.

"The food and drink we gave you to make you better. That stuff would've killed a normal kid. It would've turned your blood to fire and your bones to sand and you'd be dead. Face it. You're a half-blood."

Percy's eyes widened and he looked like he was about to burst with questions, when a familiar voice called out, "Well! A newbie!" I wanted to groan as I saw Clarisse, with her camo pants and messy brown hair.

"Clarisse," I sighed. Did she have to butt in? She was by far the most annoying person on this planet, besides her father, Ares. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure, Miss Princess," Clarisse sneered; I wanted to punch her in the face. "So I can run you through with it Friday night."

_"Erre es korakas!"_ I shouted at her, which meant 'Go to the crows!' in Greek. "You don't stand a chance."

"We'll pulverize you." Clarisse said, her eye twitching uncertainly. She tried to cover it up by turning on to Percy, who was watching us in an analytical stare. "Who's this little runt?"

"Percy Jackson," I said. "Meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares."

Percy blinked. "Like… the war god?"

"You got a problem with that?" Clarisse sneered, challenging him to have a problem with that.

"No," Percy said, seeming to come out of a trance-like state. "It explains the bad smell."

I drew in a breath; he really shouldn't have done that. Clarisse growled, agreeing with my thoughts. "We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, Prissy."

"Percy."

"Whatever. Come on, I'll show you."

I started to get nervous; they'd never done an 'initiation ceremony' before, but I knew it could not be good. "Clarisse—" I tried to protest, but she cut me off.

"Stay out of it, wise girl."

It pained me to do so, but I did. This was Percy's first day, and he needed to learn to stand up for himself, even if who he was standing up to was an overgrown playground bully. Percy handed me his Minotaur horn and seemed to psyche himself up for a fight, but that wasn't Clarisse's style, at least not today. Before Percy could even swing a punch, Clarisse had him by the neck, pulling him towards the bathrooms. Immediately, I knew whatever Clarisse's mind had schemed up, it didn't involve showing him the less-than-state-of-the-art shower system.

Percy was flailing his arms and legs, trying to get free. He shouldn't have wasted his energy; Clarisse was known for her hands of steel. I followed Clarisse and her gang helplessly as she dragged him into the foul- smelling bathrooms.

"Like he's 'Big Three' material," Clarisse scoffed, pushing Percy into a stall and inching his face dangerously close to the toilets. "Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, he was so stupid looking." Her friends snickered.

I backed into a corner, knowing there was nothing I could do. I hid my face in my hands, peeking through the gaps in my fingers to watch the horrifying scene.

Clarisse bent Percy's head closer and closer to the murky water. I winced as his head was almost hidden from view inside the toilet bowl.

And then something happened.

The pipes in the walls began to creak and moan, making the wall tremble. I saw Clarisse loosen her grip on Percy, baffled as to what was happening. And then, suddenly, an arc of water shot out of the toilets, drenching Clarisse and her gang. They all shrieked, and Clarisse let go of Percy. He sprawled out on the tile floor just as another gush of water blasted Clarisse, making her fall on her butt, pushing her steadily into a shower stall. Her friends tried to help her, but then toilets exploded, and the water turned on them. It pushed all of the Ares girls out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away.

I was too stunned by what I'd just witnessed that I didn't even realize I was sopping wet at first. I looked at Percy; he was utterly waterless, and a circle of dry floor curved around him, almost like he'd been protected by the odd outburst of water.

He stood up, legs shaky.

"How did you…" I began, too shocked to elaborate.

"I don't know."

We walked out together. I pushed some dripping strands of hair out of my face, and smoothed my wet clothes. I looked at the dry Percy enviably. And then a horrifying thought came to mind; how could he have controlled the water, unless…? No. Impossible. The pact they made… but then again, how many pacts that the gods make ever stick? Not a lot. But still…

When we walked outside, Clarisse and her gang was sprawled out in the mud, stinking of putrid sewage.

The two exchanged words, probably threats on Clarisse's side, and challenges on Percy's. I didn't catch the exchange; I was still thinking about the bathroom incident.

"What?" Percy demanded as we walked away. "What are you thinking?"

My mind was reeling with all the possibilities. But one thing was certain: "I'm thinking," I replied. "That I want you on my team for capture the flag."


	3. Chapter 3

**DISCLAIMER: As epically awesome as it would be, I sadly do not own Percy Jackson and The Olympians. That honor belongs to Rick Riordan. Enjoy :)**

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As we were walking away, I heard people whispering something about toilet water. I wasn't sure if word of the bathroom incident had spread quicker than a Hydra could strike, or if they were just pointing at me and my soggy clothes.

I decided to finish up the tour and ignore the stares of the intrigued campers. I led him to the metal shop, where kids were busy making swords and armor and other weapons. I showed him the arts-and-craft room, where satyrs were busy at work crafting a giant sculpture. Lastly, I took him to the climbing wall, which he seemed a little scared of. I didn't blame him; the two violently shaking walls that dropped boulders and spewed lava would make anyone run away.

We ended at the canoe lake, where there was a trail leading back to the cabins. I figured he could make it that far alone.

"I've got training to do," I said flatly. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall."

"Annabeth, I'm sorry about the toilets." Percy tried to apologize.

"Whatever."

"It wasn't my fault."

I looked at him skeptically; I knew for certain that the bursting pipes hadn't been a freak accident. He'd caused it, in some way. It was clear who he was.

"You need to speak to the Oracle." I announced.

"Who?"

"Not who. What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron."

He stared into the lake, looking longingly into the clear blue waters. And then, after several moments of staring, he flinched. I peered into the water, and saw he'd met the water naiads. Two of them were sitting cross- legged at the base of the pier, wearing jeans and green T-shirts. They smiled and waved. Startled and unsure, Percy waved back.

"Don't encourage them," I warned. "Naiads are terrible flirts."

"Naiads," Percy looked weak in that second, as if he was about to collapse. "That's it. I want to go home now."

I frowned at him. "Don't you get it, Percy? You are home. This is the only safe place on earth for kids like us."

"You mean, mentally disturbed kids?"

I rolled my eyes. "I mean _not human_. Not totally human, anyway. Half- human."

He frowned. "Half- human and half- what?"

Didn't he get it? I'd think by now he had at least the faintest idea of who he was. "I think you know."

In that moment, I think a little imaginary bulb clicked on above his head. His eyes lit up as he said, "God. Half-god."

I nodded, glad the he was finally somewhat on track. "Your father isn't dead, Percy. He's one of the Olympians."

"That's… crazy."

"Is it?" I questioned. "What's the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they've changed their habits in the last few millennia?"

"But those are just—" I could see him struggling not to say _myths._ Maybe he wasn't on track that much, after all. "But if all the kids here are half- gods—"

"Demigods," I interrupted. "That's the official term. Or half-bloods."

"Then who's your dad?" Percy asked.

The question caught me off guard. I tightened my grip on the pier railing and thought about my dad, the one who married the _normal_ human and had _normal_ kids and tried to lead a _normal_ life. I scoffed silently. Kind of hard to have a normal life when your daughter is running from monsters her whole life. "My dad is a professor at West Point. I haven't seen him since I was very small. He teaches American History."

"He's human." He pointed out.

"What?" I said. My voice came out a little louder than I'd meant it to. "You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?"

"Who's your mom, then?"

"Cabin six." I replied.

"Meaning?"

I straightened. "Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle."

"And my dad?"

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and sigh. "Undetermined, like I told you before. Nobody knows." I said, though I had a faint idea of who this kid belonged to.

"Except my mother. She knew." Percy said.

I gave him a cautious look. Sure, let him believe that. It would make the loss of his mother a lighter load knowing that she knew what she died for. "Maybe not, Percy," I explained slowly. "Gods don't always reveal their identities."

"My dad would have. He loved her." He insisted.

I gave him another cautious glance. "Maybe you're right. Maybe he'll send a sign. That's the only way to know for sure: your father has to send you a sign claiming you as his son. Sometimes it happens."

"You mean sometimes it doesn't?"

I ran my hands along the rough wood of the railing. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always… Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Percy. They ignore us."

I could imagine Percy thinking back to the kids in the Hermes cabin, and began to look sullen. "So I'm stuck here," He said, sounding a little whiny. "That's it? For the rest of my life?"

"It depends," I said. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world for the rest of the year. But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year- rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble—about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they get killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that."

"So monsters can't get in here?" He asked; he sounded relived.

"Not unless they're intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the outside."

"Why would anybody want to summon a monster?" Percy looked mildly nervous, like he expected Clarisse was going to summon a fire- breathing dragon to come hunt him down.

I shrugged. "Practice fights. Practical jokes."

"Practical jokes?" Percy looked as if he shouldn't get on the Hermes' kids' bad sides, either.

"The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm."

"So… you're a year-rounder?"

I nodded. I pulled out my necklace, strung with the five clay beads that represented my five years at this camp. "I've been here since I was seven. Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I've been here longer than most of the counselors, and they're all in college."

"Why did you come so young?"

Man, this boy asked a lot of questions. But I just twisted my necklace, trying to get my mind off that summer; the best one of my life, yet the worst at the same time. I remembered with a mental shudder about that Cyclops—

"None of your business." I said.

"Oh." He stood there in uncomfortable silence. "So… I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?"

"It would be suicide," I admitted. "But you could, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission. But they wouldn't give permission until the end of summer session unless…" I trailed off.

"Unless?" Percy pushed.

"You were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time…" I remembered the last time, when Luke went off on his own quest and got in a nasty fight with a dragon. He'd come home alive, but with a nasty scar; a painful reminder of that day.

"Back in the sick room," Percy said, wisely not revisiting the quest issue. "When you were feeding me that stuff—"

"Ambrosia."

"Yeah. You asked me something about the summer solstice."

My shoulders tensed but my ears perked up. Did he know something? Was I finally getting an answer? "So you _do_ know something?"

"Well… no. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did he mean?"

I clenched my fists. "I wish I knew. Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won't tell me. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time I was there, everything seemed so _normal_."

"You've been to Olympus?" He looked astonished, like I just announced I'd found a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow— mildly disbelieving, yet amazed.

"Some of us year-rounders, we took a field trip during the winter solstice, when the gods have their big annual council."

"But… how did you get there?"

"The Long Island Railroad of course. You get off at Penn Station. Empire State Building, special elevator to the six hundredth floor." I looked at him, making sure he was following. "You _are_ a New Yorker, right?"

"Oh, sure."

"Right after we visited," I continued. "The weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I've overheard satyrs talking." I said, thinking back to the time I caught a couple of them whispering in the woods. When I'd approached, they'd scattered and denied ever having a discussion. "The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn't returned by the summer solstice, there's going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping… I mean— Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course there's her rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something."

Percy shook his head, looking utterly exhausted.

"I've got to get a quest," I muttered to myself. "I'm _not_ too young. If they would just tell me the problem…"

The smell of barbeque wafted in from the dining pavilion, and I could see the eager, hungry look on Percy's face. The conch horn blew in the distance, and Percy's stomach growled.

"Go ahead," I said, motioning him away with my hand. "I'll catch you later." He ran off towards the smell fervently, leaving me there, drawing battle plans with my fingers on the pier railing.


	4. Chapter 4

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. **

* * *

Every morning, I taught Percy Ancient Greek. We talked about all the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which seemed to freak Percy out a little bit. We were always able to read a few lines of Homer before Percy started to complain of a headache.

Sometimes, when I had free time, I'd watch Percy to try to get an idea of whose child he was. He definitely wasn't a child of Ares; Clarisse would pulverize him every time he got on the mat in wrestling. He wasn't a child of Apollo; he couldn't be trusted with a bow and arrow in fear of striking someone, which I found humorous. I'll admit, I had to reign in my giggles when Chiron pulled a stray arrow out of his tail, courtesy of Percy. He was good in swordplay, but the only activity he excelled at was canoeing, which wasn't exactly a heroic skill.

Gradually, I began to doubt he really was who I thought he was. After all, it was quite possible that the Stoll brothers from the Hermes cabin had messed with the bathroom pipes, or they had simply been acting up.

Finally, Friday arrived, and it was time for capture the flag. I was beside myself in excitement; it was time to show those Ares campers that brain always pulled over brawn. After dinner was over with and the plates had cleared away, I marched out with my cabin, toting the silver Athena flag proudly.

Chiron hammered his hoof on the pavilion floor. "Heroes! You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest if fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed , and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but not bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and all sorts of weapons appeared on the table in front of him. I walked forward and chose a blue horsehair plume and a sword off the table. I caught sight of Percy across the pavilion; his armor was about three times too large, and he bumbled around the pavilion, talking to Luke.

"Blue team forward!" I yelled, taking off towards the woods.

"Hey," Percy caught up to me, fumbling through the grass with his oversized armor. I kept marching.

"So, what's the plan?" He asked me. "Got any magic items you can loan me?" His voice was joking, but immediately, my hand flew to my right pocket, making sure my invisibility cap was still there. It was.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," I warned. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?"

"Border patrol, whatever that means." He answered.

"It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away. Leave the rest to me. Athena always has a plan." I said, and it was true. Putting Percy on border patrol was a good idea; Clarisse would no doubt come with half her cabin to gang up on Percy, leaving holes in their defense, which made it too easy to grab the flag and leave.

I pushed ahead, leaving him behind me. I was the leader; I needed be in front, not in the back explaining things to the new kid.

I marched into the woods, and told my team the plan. And then I crept off on my own, prepared to keep the other team's offense on their toes.

Almost immediately, I heard some curious prowling sounds. I patrolled the nearby brush, and found a kid with a red horsehair plume crouching behind a tree. Davis, I recalled, from the Hephaestus cabin. I tried to quietly approach and disarm him, but he caught sight of me and attacked.

I met his sword with mine with a huge _clang_. I ducked as he swung, and I swung back. He parried and stepped aside, into the perfect spot for me hit him. I knocked him in the head with the hilt of my sword, but he just dazedly turned around and attacked again. I jabbed in the direction of his torso, pushing him back. He prodded me as well, but I didn't budge.

Unexpectedly, he slashed at me. I jumped back, startled. And then I remembered my magic item—the Yankees cap. I pulled it out of my pocket and put it on, instantly going invisible. Davis looked around, confused. I hit him in the head again with my hilt, and this time he stumbled backwards, falling against a hard tree and slumping to the ground.

After I made sure the Hephaestus kid wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, I took off to the creek to check on Percy. When I arrived, sure enough, he was battling half a dozen Ares kids. But, unlike I'd expected, most of them were sprawled on the ground or laying in creek, groaning. Clarisse was in the creek, her broken spear resting on the shore, weakly crackling with energy. A single Ares kid was left standing, and he slashed at Percy, leaving a nasty gash. Percy wailed, but took him down. He landed in the creek, wincing.

I looked at the wreckage Percy had caused; maybe he had more potential than I thought. Standing in the middle of the creek, he looked dazed.

All of a sudden, I heard jubilant screams and whoops, and I turned just in time to see Luke dashing through the creek, holding the red team's banner high in the air.

"A trick!" Clarisse shouted, trying to stand. "It was a trick."

They tried to get up and follow Luke, but they were too late. By the time they stepped out of the water, Luke had already replaced the ugly boar's head with a caduceus. The blue team picked Luke up on their shoulders, toting him around. A conch blew, and we had won.

"Not bad, hero." I said to Percy, still invisible. He looked around for me, but it was useless. "Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?"

I took off my cap, and shimmered to life next to Percy. Instead of startled, he seemed angry. At least he didn't look at me like I was freak for turning invisible, like he would've two days ago.

"You set me up," He accused. "You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

I shrugged. What could I say? I was a child of Athena; of course I had it all figured out. "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get me pulverized."

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but…" I shrugged. "You didn't need my help."

I looked at his wounded arm. I expected to see a bloody, nasty gash. I'd seen him get slashed by that Ares kid, but yet there was no sign of a wound. All that was left was a faint, white scratch running down his arm. He must've healed it in some way, but how?

"How'd you do that?" I asked, gesturing to the scratch.

"Sword cut." He replied. "What do you think?"

"No. It _was_ a sword cut. Look at it."

He glanced down at his arm, and the scratch then faded into a small scar before my eyes, and then altogether disappearing. Percy looked perplexed. "I—I don't get it." He said.

I stared at the scar, thinking hard. How could he have been able to that? It must have something to do with the water… but that's not possible. The pact—

I looked down at the water, and at Clarisse's broken spear. How could he have been poor in swordplay on land, yet be able to strike down half a dozen children of a war god in a creek?

And then something clicked. The bathroom pipes, the healing scar, the canoeing expertise, the surge of strength in water… it all made sense. How could I have been so naïve?

"Step out of the water, Percy." I said.

"What—" He started to complain.

"Just do it."

He stepped out of the creek, and I could visibly see the strength leave him. His shoulders slumped, and he started to lean peculiarly to the left. I reached out and steadied him before he could fall to the rocks. It confirmed my fear.

"Oh, Styx," I cursed. "This is not good. I didn't want… I assumed it would be Zeus…" I mumbled, but then a fierce canine growl ripped through the forest. My blood turned to ice; the noise no doubt belonged to a hellhound.

The cheering died down, and Chiron shouted out something Greek. I didn't catch it. I was staring at the giant hellhound peering down murderously at us, particularly Percy, with its ruby eyes and vicious fangs. I drew my sword.

"Percy, run!" I yelled, just as the beast lunged. I tried to step in front of Percy to protect him, but the beast effortlessly leaped over my head and brought his claws down on Percy. He stumbled backward and fell to the ground, too tired to put a real fight against the monster that had come, literally, straight from the pits of hell. The monster ripped through Percy's armor as if it were defenseless paper. I watched, horrified, as Percy lay still on the muddy ground.

Arrows flew from the Chiron's bow, launching half a dozen straight into the hellhound's neck. It fell, dead, at Percy's feet.

Percy's chest was bloodied and badly wounded. He was weaker than ever, which is saying something.

_"Di immortales!"_ I shrieked. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't… they're not supposed to…"

"Someone summoned it, someone inside the camp." Chiron said, trotting up next to Percy. Luke sauntered over, looking worried.

Clarisse yelled, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summoned it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron dismissed her.

I watched in awe as the body of the hellhound dissipated into a shadow, slowly sinking into the ground.

"You're wounded." I informed Percy. He groaned, but from pain or annoyance, I wasn't sure. "Quick, Percy, get in the water."

"I'm okay." He lied.

"No, you're not," I said. "Chiron, watch this."

Percy obliged, slowly getting to his feet and stepping in the water. Noticeably, the strength returned. The cuts on his chest slowly began to close, but I wasn't staring at his healing chest. I didn't pay any attention to the gasping campers or even the baffled Chiron. I was staring blatantly at the spinning green hologram now floating above his head.

Mistaking the bemused stares for ones of judgment, Percy began to apologize, but nobody was listening.

"Percy," I said cautiously, pointing at the hologram. "Um…"

Percy looked up and caught sight of the floating hologram. It was fading, but it was clear what had been spinning royally above Percy's head: a gleaming trident.

"Your father," I murmured. "This is_ really_ not good."

"It is determined." Chiron announced, and everyone kneeled, including me. The Ares cabin reluctantly went to the ground; they looked like they'd rather knock Percy out.

"My father?" Percy asked, bewildered.

"Poseidon," Chiron said reverently. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God."


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. **

* * *

After the hellhound attack and Percy's claiming, I started thinking.

What is Percy was my key for my quest? I _needed_ a quest… and Percy was no doubt the one who was going to go on a mission to solve Olympus's problems. He was, after all, the roots of the whole fight. He was probably being accused, too. He had to clear his name, didn't he?

I made my way across the green to the Big House, the scorching summer heat dampening my forehead. Chiron was giving me answers _today_. I strolled towards the chipping red farmhouse, but before I could reach the steps, I looked back towards the cabins and saw Grover dash to cabin three—Percy's cabin. He knocked on the door. I crawled closer, but couldn't catch what they were saying. Percy sauntered out of the empty cabin and followed Grover to the Big House. I put on my invisibility cap and silently pursued.

When they arrived, I was careful not to make any sound. Grover and Percy went to Chiron and Mr. D, who were nearing the end of their pinochle game. I slid behind Chiron, slightly brushing his shoulder as I passed; I cursed silently, annoyed at myself for blowing my cover. But Chiron didn't even look up, like he was expecting me to be here. I continued on and leaned against the porch railing.

"Well, well," Mr. D said. Not taking his eyes off his cards. "Our little celebrity."

Percy hesitated, not wanting to approach.

"Come closer," Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father."

Lightning flashed across the sky. "Blah, blah, blah," Mr. D said.

Chiron suddenly became quite interested in his game cards. Grover was by the railing, pacing back and forth.

"If I had my way," Dionysus continued. "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm."

"Spontaneous combustion _is_ a form of harm, Mr. D." Chiron reminded the god.

"Nonsense," He replied. "Boy wouldn't feel a thing."

Percy was growing uncomfortable, listening to a godly figure musing over the advantages of killing him.

"Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself. I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father."

"Mr. D—" Chiron warned.

"Oh, all right." He sighed, clearly unhappy that he couldn't turn Percy into a fish. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Mr. D rose from his chair, his neon, tiger- print sweat suit reflecting off the sunlight, making it hard to stare directly at him. "I'm off to Olympus for an emergency meeting," Emergency meeting? This must have something to do with the trouble on Olympus. "If the boy is still here by the time I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And, Perseus Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do."

Mr. D picked up a playing card, and transformed it into a security pass. He snapped his fingers, and, in a godly way, he disappeared, leaving the scent of chardonnay grapes lingering behind him.

"Sit, Percy, please. And Grover." Chiron said. They did as they were told.

Chiron laid down his cards, a winning hand. "Tell me, Percy," he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

I could see the indecision flash across Percy's face. Part of him, the part yearning to be the heroic, Hercules-esque boy, wanted to shrug it off as if it were a mere mouse that had scrambled into the woods. But I knew better, and it seemed Percy did, too.

"It scared me," He admitted. "If you hadn't shot it, I'd be dead."

"You'll meet worse, Percy. Far worse, before you're done."

"Done… with what?"

"Your quest, of course. Will you accept it?" Excitement shot through my veins; _Accept!_ I wanted to shout at him. _Accept it already! What are you waiting for?_

But, Percy _was _waiting for something. I wanted to stomp my foot on the wooden porch. Most kids at this camp would jump at the opportunity for a quest, namely me, but Percy was not like any of most kids at this camp. He'd made that quite clear the past few days.

"Um, sir," He said, looking a little nervous. "You haven't told me what it is, yet."

Chiron sighed; it was clear he was hoping that Percy would accept the quest before asking questions. "Well, that's the hard part, the details."

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Percy looked at the horizon. "Poseidon and Zeus. They're fighting over something valuable… something that was stolen, aren't they?"

Chiron and Grove exchanged a knowing look. "How did you know that?" Chiron asked.

Red rose to his cheeks. "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd heard something about a theft. And… I've been having these dreams." Dreams? Why didn't he tell me about dreams! That's almost a sure sign the gods need him…

"I knew it." Grover said. What he knew, I didn't know. I wish I did.

"Hush, satyr." Chiron ordered.

"But this is his quest!" Grover's eyes boiled with excitement, the same excitement churning around inside me. "It must be!"

"Only the oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his stubbly beard. "Nevertheless, Percy, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. They are fighting over something valuable that was stolen. To be precise: a lightning bolt.

_What?_ Zeus's master bolt… was taken? How? No wonder he's angry. Wouldn't anybody be if their most prized weapon was stolen from under their nose? But it still didn't make any sense…

Percy laughed nervously. "A_ what_?"

"Do not take this lightly," Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tin-foil covered zigzag you'd see in a second grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives."

"Oh." All the laughter was drained from Percy's face.

"Zeus's master bolt," Chiron said, talking faster like he'd couldn't get the words out quickly enough. "His symbol of his power, from which all other lightning bolts are patterned. The first weapon made by the Cyclops for the war against the Titans, the bolt that sheered the top off Mount Etna and hurled Kronos from his throne; the master bolt, which packs enough power to make mortal hydrogen bombs look like firecrackers."

"And it's missing?" Percy didn't look too happy about this.

"Stolen," Chiron corrected.

"By who?"

"By _whom_," Chiron corrected; I wanted to groan. This wasn't a time for correcting Percy's grammatical errors! "By you."

Percy's mouth dropped. Mine did, too, until I collected myself. "At least, that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. Afterwards, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it."

"But I didn't—"

"Patience and listen, child," Chiron said. "Zeus has reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclops are under the sea, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclops build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which heroes Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you as his son. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could have easily sneaked into Olympus. Zeus believes he's found his thief."

"But I've never even been to Olympus!" Percy protested. "Zeus is crazy!" I flinched as he said that, waiting for a blast of lightning to come down and set fire to the Big House, or at least zap a nearby tree. But, thankfully, there was only an angry rumble.

"Er, Percy…?" Grover said nervously. "We don't use the _c_-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"Perhaps _paranoid_," Chiron suggested, agreeing with Grover. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam…"

"Something about a golden net?" Percy said. "Poseidon and Hera and few other gods… they, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?"

"Correct," Chiron said, though I know for certain he would've given a lengthier description. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took offense at the accusation. The two have back arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw."

"But I'm just a kid!" _You're more than just a kid,_ I thought. _You're a demigod._

"Percy," Grover cut in. I was sure he was sharing my thoughts. "If you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, than your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that's he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you... Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?" _Ha,_ I thought. _It'd do more than that—it'd start a war. _

"But I didn't do anything. Poseidon—my dad—he didn't really have this master bolt stolen, did he?"

Chiron sighed. It was clear that he was at a crossroads right now about who to side with. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer soltice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. Do you know what full- fledged war looks like, Percy?"

"Bad?" Percy said brightly. I rolled my eyes. How dimwitted was he?

"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water balloon fight."

"Bad." Percy repeated.

"And you, Percy Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

It started to rain then, a light downpour that stunned the campers into silence. I, also, stared up at the normally anti-weather sky, confused. Was Zeus punishing the camp for something he thought Percy did?

"So I have to find the stupid bolt," Percy said, obviously furious with the situation. "And return it to Zeus."

"What a better peace offering than for the son of Poseidon to return Zeus's property?" Chiron agreed.

"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?" Percy asked, not really wanting an answer.

"I believe I know." Chiron said, a bleak expression on his aged face. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago…" A prophecy? Chiron had a prophecy and didn't tell me? "Well, some of the lines make sense to me now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle."

Just the mention of the shriveled mummy- lady stored in the Big House attic made me shiver, forgetting momentarily about the intriguing mystery-prophecy.

"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?" Percy asked.

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge." Chiron reasoned.

Percy gulped. "Good reason."

"You agree then?" Chiron leaned forward, anticipating his answer. Unconsciously, I did too. Accept, Percy!

Percy looked over at Grover for advice; he nodded encouragingly. I wished he'd say yes already. I didn't have all day!

"All right," Percy said. In spite of myself, I sighed with relief. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin."

"Then it's time you consulted the Oracle," Chiron announced. "Go upstairs, Percy Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more."

That didn't make Percy too anxious to visit the Oracle, but he stood and walked inside, disappearing from sight.

In Percy's absence, Grover nervously munched on an empty Coke can. Chiron fiddled his thumbs and looked out into the distance. Once, I could swear he was looking straight at me, but when I met his eyes, he turned away.

After a few minutes of painful silence, we heard Percy thumping back down the stairs. Grover stopped pacing and stared at the door, and Chiron stood at attention. Finally, Percy came out. He walked across the porch slowly, his eyes distant. I almost envied him. I'd never gotten to speak with the Oracle.

"Well?" Chiron urged as Percy slumped into a chair.

"She said I would retrieve what was stolen." Percy said simply.

"That's great!" Grover said, jittery.

"What did she say exactly?" Chiron asked. "This is important."

Percy shuddered slightly. "She…she said I would go west and face the god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned."

Despite the good news, Chiron didn't seem satisfied. "Anything else?"

Percy seemed to be struggling with himself. "No. That's about it."

I knew he was lying, and so did Chiron.

"Very well, Percy." He said. "But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass."

Percy didn't seem to believe him too much. "Okay, so where do I go? Who's this god in this west?"

"Ah, think, Percy. If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in war, who stands to gain?"

"Somebody else who wants to take over?" Percy guessed accurately.

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, whose kingdom can grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them now broken."

"Hades." Percy said in a chilly voice.

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility."

Aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh-what?"

"A Fury came after Percy. She watched the young man until she was sure of his identity, then tried to kill him. Furies obey only one lord: Hades." Chiron reminded him.

"Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes," Grover persisted. "Especially if he has found out Percy is a son of Poseidon…"

A hellhound got into the forest," Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it has to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Percy to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill Percy before he can take on the quest."

"Great," Percy muttered under his breath. "That's two major gods who want to kill me."

"But," Grover continued to protest. "A quest to… I mean, couldn't the master bolt be someplace like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year."

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt," Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Percy must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth."

I glanced over at Percy to see how he was taking this. He had a strange expression on his face. Nervousness? But no, it was more like anticipation. A yearning for vengeance. I wanted to warn him that Hades was_ not_ the god you wanted to take your anger out on, or revenge for that matter, but I knew quite well that Percy would not listen.

Grover was trembling in his fake feet, nervously chewing pinochle cards. I was worried for him; would he be okay in the Underworld? I knew that satyrs, Grover especially, had a fear of anything underground.

"Look, if we know it's Hades," Percy told Chiron. "Why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads." I almost scoffed. Percy sure had a lot to learn about the gods. Even if the Big Three gods weren't too lazy to actually get up and go visit, it's against Ancient Laws to do so.

"Gods cannot cross into each other's territories except by invitation. That's another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenged anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"

"You're saying I'm being used." Percy said, gritting his teeth.

"I'm saying it's no accident that Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you."

Emotions flickered across Percy's face all at once: resentfulness, gratefulness, happiness, angriness. He looked at Chiron.

"So let me get this straight," Percy said. "I'm supposed to go to the Underworld and confront the Lord of the Dead."

"Check," Chiron agreed.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe."

"Check,"

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days."

"That's about right."

Percy looked at Grover as he gulped down the queen of hearts. "Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" The satyr asked feebly.

"You don't have to go," Percy said. "I can't ask that of you."

"Oh…" Grover shifted. "No… it's just that satyrs and underground places…well…" He stood up and brushed the scraps of cards and bits of aluminum off his T-shirt. He took a deep breath. "You saved my life, Percy. If you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down."

I smiled at Grover's sudden burst of confidence.

"All the way, G-man." Percy smiled at Grover. He turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west."

Chiron looked surprised. "I thought it would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

"Oh," Percy said. It evidently wasn't obvious enough for him. "Naturally. So we just hop on a plane—"

"No!" Grover shrieked. I wanted to slap some sense into Percy; didn't he understand who he was? Maybe his head was occupied with seaweed… that would explain his cluelessness. "Percy, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"

Percy shook his head, looking embarrassed.

"Percy, think." Chiron said. "You are son of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is the Lord of the Sky. In an airplane, you would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come back down alive."

Outside, lightning crackled and thunder boomed, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten about the mysterious storm, which was steadily growing more severe.

"Okay," Percy said, trying rather hard to avert his eyes from the storm outside. "So, I'll travel overland."

"That's right." Chiron said. "Two companions may accompany you. Grover is one. The other has volunteered, if you will accept her help."

For a brief second, I was afraid someone had gotten to Chiron before me. But then I realized Chiron must have known I would want on this quest. After all, the old centaur knew about everything. I was sure he knew that I was here, because of my slip-up of touching him.

"Gee," Percy said, feigning surprise. "Who else would be stupid enough to volunteer for a quest like this?"

I took my cue and slipped off my cap.

"I've been waiting a long time for this quest, Seaweed Brain," I said, referring to my new nickname for him. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up."

"If you do say so yourself," Percy smirked. "I suppose you have a plan, Wise Girl?"

I blushed in spite of myself. "Do you want my help or not?"

"A trio," Percy nodded. "That'll work."

"Excellent," Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own."

Lightning flashed. "No time to waste," Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians...**

**A/N: Sorry for posting Chapter 5 twice... talk about embarrassing. Anyway, here is the _r_**_**eal**_** Chapter 6. Enjoy!**

* * *

I was walking on air as I made my way back to my cabin. I didn't even notice the alleviating rain pouring down on me, dampening my clothes and making my hair stick in clumping strands to my face. I just smiled.

"Why the big grin?" Malcolm, my brother, asked as I walked inside. He was nose-deep in his book, only momentarily looking up. "And wow… you're drenched."

"Really?" I said. I tried to be sarcastic, but my voice was distant and low. I squatted and pulled out a dull red duffel bag under Malcolm's bunk. "Hey, you mind if I borrow this?"

"Uh, sure. Why? Are you leaving us?" He teased.

I didn't answer. I began throwing clothes of all kinds into the bag: shirts, jeans, and a denim jacket. I stuffed my invisibility cap into my pocket, and hid my bronze knife in my shirt sleeve. I scanned the vast bookshelves and swiftly picked out a Greek architecture book to read when I got bored.

"Seriously," Malcolm swiftly rose from the table he was sitting at and closed his book. "Where are you going?"

"A quest to save the world," I joked. "What are _you_ doing tonight?"

"A quest?" He asked, ignoring my attempt at sarcasm. "Since when does Chiron allow quests?"

"Since the gods started fighting about—um, I mean, since now." I blushed, embarrassed at almost spilling the beans.

"Fighting? The gods are fighting?" He came closer. I saw that familiar curious and alarmed gleam in his eye, the same one I got when I overheard Chiron talking about a forbidden subject.

"Forget I said anything." I pleaded. I finished my packing and flung the bag over my shoulder. "I'll see you later, Malcolm!"

I left him behind me, his eyebrows scrunched together. I was sorry to leave him with questions, but I couldn't afford to give him any answers.

I walked up to the big hill, where Chiron, Percy, and Grover were waiting. There, Chiron handed us a hundred dollars and twenty golden drachmas, the currency of the gods. He gave me a canteen of nectar, and a Ziploc bag full of lemony ambrosia squares.

Percy was carrying a pathetic- looking faded backpack. He told me it was filled with an extra change of clothes and a toothbrush. Like I said, pathetic.

When I showed him my trusty bronze knife that was strapped under my shirt sleeve, he got a wary look in his eyes, like he was afraid it would get us busted when we walked through a metal detector. I should stop asking myself this, but doesn't he know anything? The Mist would fool any mortal to believe that it was just a plastic knife, or an overgrown toothpick.

Grover had on his standard fake feet and pants to pass as a human, and a Rasta cap to hide his horns. He lugged a less-than-inconspicuous bright orange backpack, filled with metal scraps and apples. He had his reed pipes, which I wished he would've left behind; the only two songs he's mastered were Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 2, and Hillary' Duff's "So Yesterday", both of which made me want to rip out my ears when played on reed pipes.

We stood on the grassy hill, gazing down at the camp. I took one last glance and soaked up as much as possible: the glowing strawberries fields, the glimmering Long Island Sound, the chipping Big House, the arena, the dining pavilion. We waved to the campers that had gathered to send us off, and then joined Chiron and Argus.

Argus's eyes watched at us as we approached, making me avoid looking at him. It was uncomfortable, like fifty people were staring critically at me. Thankfully, today he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so the excess eyes only peeked out on his hands, face, and neck.

"This is Argus," Chiron informed Percy. "He'll drive you into the city, and, er, well, keep an eye on things." I rolled my eyes at Chiron's lame pun. He was thousands of years old, and he couldn't come up with something cleverer to say?

I heard footsteps thumping softly on grass behind me. I looked back, and saw Luke running towards us. His golden hair flapped in the wind, and I couldn't tear my eyes away.

"Hey," He panted. I blushed a deep, deep red. "Glad I caught you. Just wanted to say good luck," Luke told Percy. I felt a surprising pang of jealously. I quickly pushed the feeling back down into the nonsense where it came from. Why should I be jealous? He was just _talking_ to Percy… "And I thought… um, maybe you could use these."

He handed Percy a pair of basketball sneakers. Funny, I hadn't noticed them when he was approaching. Percy studied the shoes, and I saw his guard go down, assuming they were normal. Ha.

_"Maia!"_ Luke said.

A pair of wings sprouted from the heel of the shoes, startling Percy. He dropped the shoes with a jolt. They flapped around aimlessly on the ground until the wings folded up, and disappeared.

"Awesome!" Grover exclaimed.

Luke smiled, making me blush even harder. "Those shoes served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much anymore…" Luke's expression changed to one of despair, making me want to reach out and comfort him. But I resisted.

"Hey, man," Percy said, his voice full of gratitude. "Thanks."

"Listen, Percy…" Luke said, looking uncomfortable "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just… kill some monsters for me, okay?"

They shook hands. Luke took Grover's head and patted him between the horns. He then gave me a goodbye- hug, making my breath hike and my palms grow sweaty. I felt like I was about to faint as he wrapped his arms tenderly around me. I felt invincible in those arms. But too soon, he had pulled away and was walking down the hill. I watched after him longingly.

"You're hyperventilating." Percy informed me with a smirk.

I tried to hide my blushing. "Am not."

"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?"

How could anyone so ignorant about one thing be so dang good at another, like, say, reading my emotions? "Oh… why do I want to go anywhere with you, Percy?"

I stomped angrily down the other side of the hill so I wouldn't show him how right he was. He walked up to the white SUV waiting on the shoulder of the road. I heard Argus following, jingling his keys. I leaned against the car; I folded my arms across my chest.

I watched as Percy picked up the flying shoes and gave them to Grover. The satyr eagerly slipped them on, and flew down the hill without any kind of grace at all. The shoes were dragging him towards the van, his arms flailing out behind him. I couldn't help but laugh as he crashed to halt in the door. I helped him to his feet and took off the flying shoes.

"Let's save these for later, shall we?" I laughed.

"I… I just need practice." He mumbled to himself as he climbed into the van. I stayed outside, waiting for Percy.

They were still talking. Percy was holding a ballpoint pen in his hand, which I immediately knew wasn't your average thirty-cent felt tip. They said goodbye, and Percy trudged down the hill towards us.

I watched as Chiron pulled his horse half out of the wheelchair, like those magician boxes that seem to have endless storage. In a matter of seconds, he was standing in full-centaur form, holding his bow high in salute.

Argus drove us out of the beautiful countryside and into western Long Island. I stared out at the buildings and fast food restaurants and stop signs and movie theaters hungrily; it's been a long time since I've gotten out of that cramped camp. Percy seemed to be doing the same.

"So far, so good," He told me. "Ten miles and not a single monster."

I gave him an irritated look. Didn't he know that— But I stopped myself right there. _Of course_ he didn't know that saying things like that would most likely bring out speak-of-the-devil monsters. "It's bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain."

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you."

"Could've fooled me."

I fiddled with my cap of invisibility. "Look… we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

"Why?"

I sighed. I should've known he was going to ask_ why_. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is _hugely_ disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god of the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

"They must really like olives."

I almost threw my hands up in exasperation. "Oh, forget it."

"Now if she'd invented pizza—_that_ I could understand."

"I said, forget it!"

I hastily turned to the window and watched as we pulled into Manhattan. A beautiful sunset was splayed out across the sky, and a light drizzle began to fall.

Argus dropped us off at the Greyhound Station. Percy started acting a little weird, looking up at the apartments and clenching his fists. While I was hurriedly putting on Grover's fake foot after it fell off, out of the corner of my eye I saw Percy hastily rip down a flyer on a mailbox. I was suspicious, but didn't ask. We all had secrets.

After Argus unloaded our bags and made sure we had our tickets, he drove away. Percy was gazing down the street, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You want to know why she married him, Percy?" Grover asked, out of the blue.

Percy turned his gaze from the street to him, staring at Grover uncertainly. "Were you reading my mind or something?"

"Just your emotions," Grover shrugged, shifting his backpack. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

Ah, I see. He was feeling nostalgic for old time's sake, but also angry at his stepfather, and maybe even grief for his mom. I empathized; I knew the feeling of being so close to home, but knowing you could never go back.

Percy nodded, urging him to go on. He seemed curious about Grover's peculiar ability.

"Your mom married Gabe for you," Grover said. "You call him 'Smelly', but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura… Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week."

"Thanks," Percy grumbled. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Percy. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside that Camaro, I knew: Gabe had been hiding your scent for years. If you haven't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. You mom stayed with him to protect you. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if it makes you feel any better."

Percy turned away, and I could tell it didn't.

"Come on, guys," I said. "We should get going."

By the time we got to the terminal, the rain was heavier than ever. We ducked inside, and waited for the bus.

We all got a little restless waiting for the Greyhound, so Percy had a rare bright idea: why not play some Hacky Sack? Grover fished out an apple and bounced it off his elbow to get started. It ricocheted off my knee, and Percy returned it with his elbow.

We were having a lot of fun, until Percy tossed the apple too close to Grover's mouth, and he munched it up one bite. The red- face satyr tried to apologize, but Percy and I were too busy trying to contain our hysterics.

Finally, the bus came. As we stood in line to board, I noticed Grover sniffing the air nervously.

"What is it?" Percy asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it's nothing."

Percy looked over his shoulder tensely, just like Grover. There was an uneasy feeling in the air, and I didn't like it. I'd learned to trust Grover's monster-alert instincts, even he hadn't. There was a monster close, but I didn't know where.

We boarded the bus, and found three available seats in the back. I was suddenly very jittery, and nerves were rolling around in my stomach. I sat down and started to nervously slap my Yankees cap against my thigh.

And then my blood turned to ice. I froze, staring at the three old ladies that were now boarding the bus. Except, they weren't your average old ladies at all. Not by a long shot. With their gnarled hands and wrinkled, evil faces, they looked like they'd come straight from the Underworld itself. And, if I was seeing correctly, that was exactly the case.

I clamped my hand on Percy's knee. "Percy."

He looked up, and his face froze in recognition and fear. His eyes grew wide as he took in the one 'little old lady' who donned a wrinkled velvet dress and an orange hat. _Alecto,_ I thought. I'd almost forgotten that she was the one who'd attacked Percy back at Yancey.

The Furies sat down in the front row, crossing their legs across the aisle to make an _X_. The message was crystal clear, and Percy seemed to realize it too: nobody leaves.

As the bus pulled out of the station and started driving down the slick Manhattan streets, Percy whispered to me, "She didn't stay dead long. I thought you said they could be dispelled for a lifetime."

"I said if you're _lucky_," I reminded him. "You're obviously not."

"All three of them," Grover bleated. _"Di immortales!" _

"It's okay," I said, my mind racing. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem, no problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open," Grover moaned.

"A back exit?"

Percy shook his head. I looked around nervously. Maybe I could break a window…

"They won't attack us with witnesses around, will they?" Percy asked.

"Mortals don't have good eyes." I said. "Their brains can only process what they see through the Mist."

"They'll see three old ladies killing us, won't they?"

Would they? They'd know something was happening, like maybe our three grandmothers pummeling us with paisley purses for not saying please and thank you. "Hard to say. But we can't count on mortals for help. Maybe an emergency exit in the roof…?"

The bus was suddenly bathed in darkness as we drove through the Lincoln Tunnel. I almost reached for Percy's hand, but stopped at the last second. How weird would it be to have a girl you just met holding your hand? He'd definitely get the wrong impression. But right now, I had other things to worry about, like the three demon grandmothers rising from their seats.

"I need to use the restroom." Said Alecto in a flat voice.

"So do I," Agreed Megaera, another of the Furies.

"So do I," Chorused Tisiphone, the last Fury sister.

A cold chill crept up my spine as they made their way to the back of the bus, heading straight towards us.

"I've got it," I whispered. "Percy, take my hat."

"What?" He asked, not taking his eyes off the Furies.

"You're the one they want," I explained. "Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away.

"But you guys—"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us," I said, slightly touched by his concern. "You're a son of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering." I handed him the hat; he took it hesitantly.

"I can't just leave you."

"Don't worry about us," Grover pitched in. "Go!"

With trembling hands, Percy placed the hat on his head. He turned invisible.

Halfway towards us, the Furies stopped in their tracks and sniffed the air to the right of them. I froze in anticipation. They'd found Percy. Would they attack?

But Alecto just walked on past, and the three demon sisters just kept shuffling towards us. I let out a deep breath, momentarily relieved. But the feeling didn't last long. The three Furies had their eyes trained on us, and they each smiled, showing us a terrifying array of sharp teeth.

I watched in horror as they changed into their real form: their velvety dresses fell away, revealing shriveled, leathery hag bodies. Bat wings sprouted at their shoulders, and their hand and feet curled into talons. The innocent- looking handbags they were carrying a moment before were now fiery whips. They let forth a huge wail and started lashing their whips at us, hissing, "Where is it? Where?"

"He's not here!" I yelled. "He's gone!"

But they didn't pay attention. They just raised their whips in sync, ready the hit us. I drew my bronze knife and prepared to attack. Grover brought out a tin can from his backpack and poised it to throw.

And then the bus lurched to the left, causing the Furies to smash into the windows. Everybody shrieked as they were thrown against the wall, including Grover.

I could hear the driver saying "Hey! Whoa—hey!" up front. I knew Percy was responsible, and I had to give it to him for his quick thinking. But as the bus grated against the tunnel walls, sending sparks flying, I'd wished he'd thought of something kinder to my stomach.

We flew out of the tunnel and into the drenching rainstorm, the bus still uncontrollably veering to the left and right. We blew through numerous red lights and got many honks and angry gestures from fellow drivers. Thankfully, we soon found a rural back road. I would've stopped to enjoy the serene scene, but I was too busy trying not to get crushed by Grover.

And then the bus screeched to a halt, sending Grover and his backpack flying forward. I hit my head on the metal wall, and rubbed the bruise that would not doubt become a bump. We spun a complete circle the slick road and crashed to halt, colliding with some trees.

Everything was unnaturally still for a moment as everyone soaked up what had happened. And then the dazed passengers practically tripped over themselves trying to get out.

After everyone had stampeded out of the bus, the Furies slowly got to their feet. The lashed their whips at me, and I waved my knife in an effort to get them away from Grover, who was having some difficulty getting up.

"Hey!" I looked over the Furies' shoulders and saw Percy. My cap was dangling in his hands. I felt a rush of gratitude that he hadn't just run away, but I also knew he was stupid for staying. He would get killed.

The Furies turned, and flicked their whips. Flames danced on the cracked leather, and Grover whimpered beside me. Alecto had her gaze glued to Percy, analyzing the most painful way to kill him. Tisiphone and Magaera hopped up on top of the seats on either side of Percy, hissing menacingly.

"Perseus Jackson," Said Alecto in a rasping voice. It sent chills up my arm. "You have offended the gods. You shall die."

"I liked you better as a math teacher." Percy told her. She growled.

I helped Grover to his feet, and we moved up behind them, looking for an opportunity.

I saw Percy remove the ballpoint pen that Chiron had given him. He uncapped it, and it grew into a gleaming, double- edged sword. A faint light settled around it, making the Furies hesitant to attack.

"Submit now," Alecto hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment."

"Nice try," Percy scoffed.

I saw Alecto raise her whip.

"Percy, look out!" I cried.

The demon lashed her whip around Percy's sword hand, which gave the two other Furies the chance to lunge. They got a good hold on Percy, but he expertly hit Tisiphone with his sword hilt, which he had somehow held on to, sending her flying backwards. He turned and sliced Magaera, who wailed and disintegrated into a gray poof of dust. I saw my chance.

Grover and I rushed forward. I got the wailing Fury in a headlock, while Grover ripped the steaming whip out of her hands.

"Ow!" He yelled, juggling the whip like a hot potato. "Ow! Hot! Hot!"

Tisiphone had gotten back on her feet and lunged at Percy, talons poised to kill. But before she could touch him, Percy swung his sword and struck her. She crumpled to her knees and disappeared.

Meanwhile, Alecto was flailing around, kicking like a bucking bronco, trying to get me off of her. She clawed at me, hissed and even tried to bite me, but I wasn't going anywhere. Grover ran forward and tied her feet together with her own whip. We both gave her a hard shove, and she tumbled down.

"Zeus will destroy you!" She hissed. "Hades will have your soul!"

_"Baccas meas vescimmi!"_ Percy yelled, which meant, "Eat my pants!"

I would've laughed if I wasn't so shaken up. I don't think the most evil monster from the Underworld would be too scared at the threat of eating Percy's pants. But hey, whatever floats his boat.

Thunder shook the bus, and the hair rose on the back of my neck. Oh no; I knew what this meant. I could smell electricity in the air.

"Get out!" I yelled. "Now!"

We all scurried out of the bus.

We found the other passengers outside pacing, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles like lunatics screaming, "We're all going to die!" A tourist snapped our picture before Percy could put away his sword.

"Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—"

Before he could finish, a gigantic boom filled the air, rattling my teeth. The bus exploded in front of me, and lightning came down, shredding a huge hole in the roof. A very angry wail came from inside the bus, and, with a horrifying realization, I knew what was happening.

"Run!" I told them. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"

We plunged into the forest, leaving behind us a blazing bus and one angry demon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians...**

* * *

So, within the first two hours of leaving camp, we'd already blown up a perfectly good bus and killed two Furies. Yep; just your average demigod vacation. And, in addition to handling the shock of seeing all three of the Furies together in one place, I had to lug around one mumbling satyr and an equally dazed, extremely dangerous half-blood.

How much better could this get?

"Come on!" I tried to push them forward, but their eyes were blank and distant. Ugh. "The farther away we get, the better."

"All our money was back there," Percy spoke for the first time in half an hour. "Our food and clothes. Everything."

"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—"

"What did you want me to do? Let you get killed?"

"You didn't need to protect me, Percy. I would've been fine." I lied.

Truthfully, without Percy, I wouldn't be here right now, dashing through the darkness with them like a band of crazed desperados, fleeing from the crime scene. But I was_ not_ about to admit that.

"Sliced like sandwich bread," Grover whimpered. "But fine."

"Shut up, goat boy." I said.

Grover brayed somberly. "Tin cans… a perfectly good bag of tin cans."

We silently sloshed through the marshy ground, the musty smell of sour dirt filling the air.

After a few minutes, I fell back and walked alongside Percy.

"Look, I…" My voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back to us, okay? That was really brave."

"We're a team, right?" He said.

I was silent for a few feet. "It's just that if you died… besides the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world."

The rain stopped coming down so hard. The thunder had ceased, and the glow of the city was fading fast behind us. Soon, we were in total darkness.

"You haven't left Camp half-Blood since you were seven?" He asked.

"No… only short field trips. My dad—"

"The history professor."

"Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp half-Blood is my home." I rushed my words. It felt good admitting this to someone. "At camp you train and train. And that's cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not."

"You're pretty good with that knife." Percy supplied.

"You think so?"

"Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."

I smiled at his comment. Maybe he wasn't so bad to have around after all.

And then I remembered something, something Alecto had said. "You know, maybe I should tell you… Something funny back on the bus…"

But I was interrupted by a horrible sound, one I immediately knew as Grover trying to play his reed pipes.

"Hey, my reed pipes still work!" Grover cried. _Wonderful,_ I thought. "Now, if I could just remember a 'find path' song, we could get out of these woods!" He puffed out a few notes, and I wanted to cover my ears.

Now, Grover's nice and all, and he's not too terribly annoying all the time, but those reed pipes… sometimes he just needs to know when not to play them.

Before I could dwell any longer on Grover's reed pipe playing, Percy walked straight into a tree trunk. I bit my lip to keep from laughing and helped him steady himself.

He tripped and cursed for the next mile or so, making me giggle every now and then. I started to see light up ahead then, like the colors of a neon sign. And then a delectable smell drifted towards me, interrupting my thoughts. It smelled so good, like fast food. I haven't had anything greasy or fried in _so long_. Percy seemed to reading my thoughts, and we hurriedly stumbled forward.

We kept walking until we found a deserted two-lane road. It was so empty that I expected a tumbleweed to roll out of nowhere, like in those old wild west movies. On the other side of the road sat an abandoned gas station, a weather-beat billboard for an outdated movie, and the source of the light and smell: a roadside curio shop.

Statues were perched outside the low, long warehouse, and acres of barren land surrounded the shop, filled with concrete statues. A neon sign hung above the gate, but it was next to impossible to read. With my dyslexia, it looked like _ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM_.

"What the heck does that say?" Percy asked, having as much difficulty reading it as I was.

"I don't know." I admitted.

"Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium." Grover translated.

Shrugging, Percy started across the street. I followed.

"Hey…" Grover warned. He didn't seem as anxious to eat as we were.

"The lights are on inside," I said. "Maybe it's open."

I was hypnotized by the smell, drawn to the neon glow like a moth to a flame.

"Snack bar," Percy said wistfully.

"Snack bar," I agreed.

"Are you two crazy?" Grover asked. Were we? Maybe. "This place is weird."

We just ignored him. We were almost across the street by now, and Grover had no choice but to follow.

Sitting in the front lot was a forest of statues. Cement animals, cement children, cement satyrs… this place had everything.

_"Bla-ha-ha!"_ Grover bleated, staring at the satyr statue with a creeped-out look on his face. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

We stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock," Grover pleaded with us. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies," I reasoned. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" Grover said disdainfully. "I'm a vegetarian."

"You eat cheese enchiladas and tin cans." Percy reminded him.

"Those are vegetables. Come on. Let's leave. These statues are… looking at me."

Before I could open my mouth to protest that they're just _statues_, the door creaked open.

In front of us stood a tall Middle Eastern woman. Well, I assumed she was Middle Eastern. She was wearing a long black gown, and thick black gauze covered her face. Her russet colored hands were the only sight of skin this woman offered.

"Children, it is too late to be out all alone," She scolded, speaking with an accent that sounded Middle Eastern, too. "Where are your parents?"

"They're… um…" I tried to think of an excuse, but Percy was quicker.

"We're orphans." He said.

"Orphans?" The woman asked, seeming appalled. "But, my dears! Surely not!"

"We got separated from our caravan," Percy said, on a roll now. His somber expression helped that fact that we were 'orphans.' "Our circus caravan. The ringmaster told us to meet him at the gas station if we got lost, but he may have forgotten, or maybe he meant another gas station. Anyway, we're lost. Is that food I smell?"

"Oh, my dears," The woman sympathized. "You must come in, poor children. I am Aunty Em. Go straight through to the back of the warehouse, please. There is a dining area."

We thanked her and sauntered inside, trying to act like sad little orphans.

"Circus caravan?" I muttered to Percy. The concept itself was so ridiculous.

"Always have a strategy, right?"

"Your head is full of kelp."

The warehouse was filled with even more statues. They were all so diverse; they ranged from a joyful toddler in overalls pointing forward, to a curly- haired satyr who looked scared senseless. They were all life- size, too. It added to the fact that they were all so eerily anatomically correct.

The smell was getting stronger, and I walked faster. _So. Hungry._

I was in such a trance from the prospect of food that I barely noticed Grover's anxious whimpers, or the way the statues' eyes appeared to pursue my every movement, or that Aunty Em had locked the door.

We soon found the dining area. There was a long fast food counter, which was stocked with a grill, a soda fountain, a pretzel heater, and a nacho cheese dispenser. A couple picnic tables were positioned invitingly out front.

"Please, sit down." Said Aunty Em. I didn't have to be told twice.

"Awesome," Percy said.

Grover didn't seem as thrilled. "Um, we don't have any money, ma'am."

I wanted to cover his mouth with tape, but Aunty Em said, "No, no children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans."

"Thank you, ma'am." I said.

Aunty Em stiffened up then, like I'd done something to offend her, but she relaxed just as quickly. It was odd…

"Quite all right, Annabeth," Now it was my turn to stiffen up. I hadn't introduced myself… how did she know my name? Maybe Grover was right. Was this a safe place to be? "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child."

Before I could ask questions, she disappeared into the kitchen and came back minutes later with plastic trays heaped to the rim with burgers, fries, and shakes. The smell was overpowering, but it didn't take my mind off Aunty Em's strange remark.

I slurped my shake uncertainly. Grover picked at his fries, and wasn't even munching on the waxed paper like he normally would. Percy, on the other hand, was eagerly munching on his burgers and fries. I never could've guessed that he could fit so much food inside he mouth at one time.

"What's that hissing noise?" Grover asked.

I listened, but didn't hear a thing. I shook my head.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you heard the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

How did she know Grover's name?

"I take vitamins. For my ears." Grover said.

"That's admirable." Aunty Em said. "But please, relax."

I was growing uneasy. Aunt Em stared at Percy in an analytical way, like she was thinking he'd be a great model for a new sculpture. And for some reason, that made a chill travel up my spine.

When we were done eating, Percy tried to make small talk with our hostess.

"So you sell gnomes," I could Percy was trying to sound interested, but he really wasn't that convincing.

"Oh yes." She said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know."

"A lot of business on this road?"

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built… most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I can get."

Percy looked behind him suspiciously, like he thought someone was watching. A statue seemed to hold his attention.

"Ah," Said Aunty Em sadly. "You noticed some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is hardest to get right. Always the face."

"You make these statues yourself?" Percy asked.

"Oh yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in this business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company."

Something she'd said had caught my attention, and everything starting falling in place like a puzzle. I looked around and focused on the faces of the statues; all of them were ones of pure horror and terror. Two sisters… the statues… Aunty _Em_…

"Two sisters?" I asked her.

"It's a terrible story," Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a… a boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price."

I needed no other explanation. It was clear to me who this woman was, if you could even call her a _woman_. The statues seemed to be warning me; we had to go_ now_.

"Percy?" I said, shaking him. He seemed to be in a trance. "Maybe we should go. I mean, the ringmaster will be waiting." My voice was nervous and tense.

"Such beautiful gray eyes," She told me. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those."

That was the last puzzle piece. I knew who the last person was in which she'd seen eyes like mine, and I knew who she saw when she looked in Percy's.

She reached out to stroke my cheek, but I abruptly stood up before she could come near to me. I was_ not_ letting her touch me.

"We really should go." I said.

"Yes!" Grover stood up. "The ringmaster is waiting! Right!"

Percy was hesitant. I could tell "Aunty Em" was putting him in some kind of trance, and he needed get out of it. Now.

"Please, dears," The black-veiled woman pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" I said warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children."

I shifted my weight from foot to foot. If my suspicions were correct about this little old lady, she wouldn't be using a camera to immortalize us. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Percy—"

"Sure we can," Percy interrupted. He shot me an irritated look. I would've slapped him if he wasn't in a trance, making him delusional. Didn't he know I was trying to save his life? "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"

_You have no idea,_ I thought, but I obliged.

Aunty Em led us out the front door and into the massive garden of statues. My nerves were going haywire, all of them screaming at me to get away quick. But I was frozen, letting the woman position me on a stone bench, next to the stone satyr that Grover said looked like his uncle.

"Now," She said. "I'll just position you correctly. The young girl in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side."

"Not much light for a photo," Percy remarked.

"Oh, enough." The woman said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Grover asked warily.

Aunty Em ignored him and stepped back a little, admiring the scene. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced to his right, looking at the cement statue of a satyr. "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand." He mumbled.

"Grover," Aunty Em chided. "Look this way, dear."

Still, there was no camera in her hands.

"Percy—" I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen.

"I will just be a moment," Said Aunty Em. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil…"

"Percy, something's wrong," I tried to tell him.

"Wrong?" Aunty Em asked, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That_ is_ Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

"Look away from her!" I shouted, whipping out my Yankees cap and quickly putting it on. I vanished immediately and gave Grover and Percy a hard shove, sending them flying off the bench.

Grover quickly got up and scrambled off into the bushes, and I sprinted towards a statue. I crouched behind it, making sure to avert my eyes. A rasping, hissing noise was coming from where our hostess was standing. I needed no more proof… we'd just walked into Medusa's lair.

I peeked out from behind the stone, overall-clad man I was hiding behind, and saw that Aunty Em was no more. Her previously elegant and manicured hands were now hideously gnarled and covered with disgusting warts, sharp talons replacing her fingernails. Even though I didn't look, I was sure that her hair wasn't even hair at all; it was instead a nasty set of slithering, writhing snakes.

Percy raised his head, about to look higher. "No!" I screamed. "Don't!"

He obeyed, but he was obviously still in that cursed trance the monster-woman had put him under.

"Run!" Grover bleated from somewhere. I could hear him racing across the gravel, shouting,_ "Maia!" _to kick-start his flying shoes.

Percy seemed to be having difficulty keeping his head down. I willed him to stay put, to not look into Medusa's eyes.

"Such a pity to destroy such a handsome young face," Medusa said soothingly, her snakes hissing. "Stay with me, Percy. All you have to do is look up."

Percy struggled. _Come on, Percy,_ I thought. _Don't look!_

Instead of looking up, he looked to his right and caught sight of a glass gazing ball. I saw his eyes widen in recognition when he saw who this woman really was. I saw as the pieces clicked together in his head; he knew he'd been foolish to get lured into this. We were all foolish.

I tried to think. Medusa… the three gorgons… Perseus…

"The Gray- Eyed One did this to me, Percy," Medusa said in a soothing voice, a comforting sound, like the sound of trickling water. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this."

I clenched my fists. _No one_ insults Athena. "Don't listen to her!" I shouted. "Run, Percy!"

"Silence!" Medusa snarled at me. Then she went back to her lulling purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Percy. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue her dust. But you, dear Percy, you need not suffer."

"No," Percy muttered. He struggled with his legs, trying to get up.

"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Percy? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain."

"Percy!" I heard a loud buzzing noise then, and looked behind me to see Grover flailing in the air. The shoes flapped and fluttered, heading straight towards Percy. "Duck!"

Grover had his eyes closed tight, navigating through statuary by his ears and nose alone. In his hand was a gigantic tree branch.

"Duck! I'll get her!" He yelled.

That seemed to jolt Percy out of his trance. He dove to one side just as Grover nailed Medusa in the head. She roared with rage.

"You miserable satyr," Medusa snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

Percy scrambled into the statuary, coming to a stop right beside me.

"Percy!" I said. He jumped so high he almost knocked over a garden gnome.

"Jeez! Don't do that!" He said.

I took off my Yankees cap. "You have to cut her head off."

He looked at me, appalled. "What? Are you crazy? Let's get out of here."

"Medusa is a menace. She's evil. I'd kill her myself, but…" I swallowed. I didn't want to admit that Percy had a better chance of killing her, but I knew I had to. "But you've got the better weapon. Besides, I'd never get close to her. She'd slice me to bits because of my mother. You—you've got a chance."

"What? I can't—"

"Look, do you want her turning more innocent people into statues?"

I pointed to a pair of statue lovers sitting on a bench. They had their arms wrapped around each other, obviously very much in love, turned to stone by the monster.

I grabbed a green gazing ball that was sitting near me. I looked at it scornfully. "A polished shield would be better," I studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some disorientation. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—"

"Would you speak in English?" Percy interrupted.

"I _am_!" I tossed him the ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly."

"Hey, guys!" I heard Grover yell. "I think she's unconscious!"

_"Roooaaarrr!" _

"Maybe not," Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.

"Hurry," I told Percy. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll crash eventually."

Percy took out his pen, and uncapped it. The bronze sword elongated in his hand.

He kept his eyes glued to the gazing ball, following the hissing noises of Medusa's hair.

I watched as Grover dove for Medusa, aiming to hit her head, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed hold of the stick and pulled him off course, sending him flying through the air. He crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!"

Medusa was about to lunge when Percy yelled, "Hey!"

The monster stopped and turned around. She allowed Percy to advance, her snarl now an evil, yet inviting, smile.

"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Percy," She crooned. "I know you wouldn't."

Percy hesitated, gazing at the reflection in the sphere. I knew he was looking at her eyes.

"Percy, don't listen to her!" Grover moaned, lying in the wreckage of the stone grizzly.

And then Medusa lunged.

Percy slashed blindly with his sword, and I heard a nauseating _shlock_, and then a hiss like the wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating.

Medusa's head hit the ground with a thump. It gurgled and steamed, the little snakes hissing weakly.

"Oh, yuck," Grover said. "Mega-yuck."

I walked up to them, my eyes fixed on the twinkling stars in the sky.

"Don't move," I said.

I bent down and retrieved her black veil, and then knelt slowly, being very careful not to look, and draped the monster's head in the black cloth. I picked it up; green juice dripping into the dirt.

I looked over at Percy; his face was a little green. "Are you okay?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"Yeah," He said, obviously lying. "Why didn't… why didn't the head evaporate?"

"Once you sever it," I explained. "It becomes a spoil of war. Same as your Minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you."

Grover moaned and climbed out of the remains of the stone bear. A big welt had bloomed on his forehead, and his green Rasta hat cap hung from one of his goat horns. His fake feet had been knocked off his hooves, and the flying shoes were now flapping aimlessly above his head.

"The Red Baron," Percy smiled. "Good job, man."

Grover managed a bashful grin. "That really was _not _fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? _Not_ fun."

Grover snatched the shoes out of the air. Percy recapped his sword. Together, the three of us stumbled back to the warehouse.

Behind the snack counter, we found some old plastic bags that proudly boasted: _WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS!,_ and used them to double-wrap Medusa's head. We plopped down on the same picnic table we'd eaten dinner at and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.

Finally, Percy said, "So do we have Athena to thank for this monster?"

I shot him an irritated look, too tired to flash him anything worse. Now was _so_ not the time to push my buttons. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided the meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him."

Percy face grew hot. "Oh, so now it's _my_ fault we met Medusa."

I straightened. Of course it was his fault_. "It's just a photo, Annabeth. What's the harm?"_ I mocked him in a laughable imitation of his voice.

"Forget it," Percy grumbled. "You're impossible."

"You're insufferable." I shot back.

"You're—"

"Hey!" Grover interrupted. "You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even _get _migraines. What are we going to do with the head?"

I stared at the filthy plastic-covered thing. A little snake had slithered out of a hole in the plastic, weakly hissing and writhing.

What_ were_ we going to do with it? We definitely couldn't just throw it away for fear that an innocent mortal could find it. Could it be burned? Or maybe we could slice it up—

"I'll be back," Percy said, getting up.

I looked up, confused. "Percy." I called after him. "What are you—" But before I could finish my sentence, he'd already disappeared into a back room.

I rolled my eyes and leaned back. "He's probably going to do something stupid." I muttered.

"If I've learned anything about Percy, it's that's he's most definitely going to do something stupid." Grover commented.

Something kept nagging at me. Ever since the Furies attacked us on the bus, what they'd said had been pestering my mind like a gnat.

"Grover," I started. "Do you… do you think something weird is going on with this quest? I mean… when the Kindly Ones attacked us on that Greyhound, they didn't seem like they wanted Percy. They were saying 'Where is _it_?' Like… maybe they weren't searching for a person, but a thing."

Grover thought about it. "But what thing? What could they be searching for?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "That's been bothering me. And also, they were almost… holding back. Usually, they go straight for the kill. They seemed to be delaying. And with Percy at Yancey, why did Alecto wait so long to attack? That's not usually her style."

"Yeah," Grover agreed, starting to chew a fork. "Well, one thing's for sure. Something about this quest isn't right."

I nodded and picked at my clothes.

Moments later, Percy came back with the most peculiar supplies in his hands: a medium- sized cardboard box, twenty mortal dollars, a few golden drachmas, and a couple packaging slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. He put down the supplies and wrote on a packaging slip. I could just barely read,

_**The Gods**_

_**Mount Olympus**_

_**600th Floor,**_

_**Empire State Building**_

_**New York, NY**_

_**With best wishes,**_

_**PERCY JACKSON**_

"They're not going to like that," Grover warned. "They'll think you're impertinent."

Percy poured some drachmas into the pouch, and there was a sound like a cash register closing. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a _pop_.

"I_ am_ impertinent," Percy said. I didn't argue with him there.

He looked at me, raising his eyebrow, daring me to criticize.

But I didn't. I'd long ago accepted the fact the Percy possessed a special gift for irritating the gods.

"Come on," I muttered. "We need a new plan."


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

* * *

It was miserable that night.

We decided to camp out in a marshy clearing a hundred yards from the road. The ground was dusted with hamburger wrappers and flattened soda cans, giving off a revolting stink. Mosquitoes buzzed around, attracted by the smell.

"Ugh," I said, kicking aside a muddy french-fry carton and swapping a mosquito away.

We'd taken some blankets and food from Medusa's lair, but it was a mutual agreement that a fire wouldn't be smart. After everything that had happened today, we didn't dare do anything that might attract some more monsters.

We decided to sleep in shifts. Seaweed Brain volunteered to go first, and that was fine by me. I was out like a light as soon as my head hit the pillow.

My dream was relatively normal.

_I was back at camp, gazing out over the canoe lake. The blue waters shimmered like gold in the low sunlight, and the comforting sound of clanging swords and shields floated out of the arena. There was laughter coming from behind me, and I turned around._

_There was Luke, his golden hair even more brilliant than the lake. He was wearing a bronze breastplate and a sword was strapped to his side. He was smiling, but it seemed fake; forced. _

_"Why don't you join us, Annabeth?" He said, holding out his hand. _

_I looked behind him. "Who's the _us_?" I asked. "Who am I joining?"_

_He just smiled and held out his hand. I didn't like his smile; it was too cold, too much unlike Luke. "The winning side," He whispered. "Please, come."_

_"What do you mean?" I was puzzled. The winning side of what?_

_"Annabeth," He seemed pained. His quick change of mood startled me; I wanted to reach out and hug him, to make him feel better. "Please."_

_He crumpled to his knees then, and held his face in his hands. "Why won't you listen?" He wailed._

_"Luke!" I sank to my knees beside him, but, just as I reached out to touch him, the dream dissipated and I awoke._

The bright sunlight was disorientating. Beside me, crumpled into a ball and snoring, was Percy. I rolled my eyes at the small puddle of drool collecting beneath his chin.

And then I heard a shrill bark.

"What was that?" I asked, mostly to myself.

"Gladiola," Grover replied oh-so-helpfully, followed by another shrill yip.

I turned around to face Grover. In his lap was a small, fluffy _thing_. Its fur was an unnatural pink, the color tainted by the mud and leaves stuck in its coat.

"What is that?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

The poodle growled. "_That_ is Gladiola, the pink poodle. He can hear you, you know. Why don't you say hello?"

"Um," I said, still drowsy. "Hello, Gladiola."

Gladiola yapped happily. "What is he doing in your lap?" I asked. "You know the we can't lug around a dog, no matter how attached—"

"I'm not bringing him with us," Grover assured me, though he looked like he wanted to. "I found him in the woods this morning when I was exploring. He says that he ran away from a rich family around here, and they posted a $200 reward for his return." Grover explained.

"That's brilliant," I exclaimed, piecing together the puzzle. "We can collect the money, buy tickets to L.A., and done."

"Yeah, and there's an Amtrack station down there," Grover pointed behind him to some train tracks that I hadn't noticed last night. "Found it this morning during my exploration trip. Gladiola says the westbound train leaves at noon."

"Awesome. We're all set."

Grover smiled and petted the poodle. I ruffled around the pile of snacks we'd stolen from Aunty Em's, and pulled out a bag of Doritos. Mm, breakfast.

Next, I took it upon myself to wake the drooling Percy. I shook his shoulder and pinched his arm, but he was still out like a rock. I was contemplating pouring a bucket of mud on his face when he groggily opened his eyes.

"Well," I said. "the zombie lives."

"How long was I asleep?" He asked.

"Long enough for me to cook breakfast," I replied, picking a bag of nacho- flavored chips out of the pile and tossing it to him. "And Grover went exploring. Look, he found a friend."

Percy looked over blindly, fatigue still veiling his eyes. When he seemed to focus on the little dog in Grover's lap, Gladiola yipped suspiciously.

"No, he's not." Grover spoke to the poodle.

Percy blinked. "Are you… talking to that thing?"

The poodle growled, like it—er, _he_—did when I referred to him as a _that_.

"The _thing_," Grover warned. "Is our ticket west. Be nice to him."

"You can talk to animals?"

Grover ignored that and moved on to introductions. "Percy, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Percy."

Percy looked over at me questioningly, like he suspected this was one big practical joke. But I wasn't laughing.

"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle," He said defiantly. "Forget it."

"Percy," I said. "I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle."

The poodle growled, baring its teeth.

Percy said hello to the poodle.

As Grover explained the whole poodle situation to Percy, I started thinking. So, if we left soon to return Gladiola, we'd get the two hundred bucks and get down to the station by mid- morning. We'd buy tickets west, and be out of here by noon. I couldn't wait to leave and get as far away as possible from the creepy Aunty Em's. The blank eyes of those poor people staring down at me still gave me chills.

"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" Percy asked once Grover was done talking.

"He read the sign," Grover said, like it should be obvious. "Duh."

"Of course," Percy muttered. "Silly me."

"So we turn in Gladiola," I said, transforming into strategy-mode. "We get money, and buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple."

"Not another bus," Percy said warily.

"No," I agreed.

I pointed downhill towards the train tracks Grover had shown me earlier.

"There's an Amtrack station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the westbound train leaves at noon."


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Unfortunately, it's true. :)**

* * *

After turning in Gladiola, we bought train tickets and boarded the Amtrack. It turned out that two hundred dollars would only get us as far as Denver, but we would take anything.

We spent two days on the train, heading west. We rode through hills, over rivers and past tawny fields of grain. It was comforting to sit back, though I can't say I relaxed. More like resting my eyes while keeping my ears sharp for any sign of attack. I was still thinking about how this quest might not be what we all think it is.

Percy's face was plastered over the front pages of several newspapers, cautioning us to be extra low-profile. One newspaper, The _Trenton-Register News_, had caused Percy to stop and stare. It was photo of Percy exiting the Greyhound bus. His eyes looked feral and scared, and in his hand was an unidentifiable bronze haze. His sword. The caption read:

_Twelve-year-old Percy Jackson, wanted for questioning in the Long Island disappearance of his mother two weeks ago, is shown here fleeing from the bus where he accosted several elderly passengers. The bus exploded on an east New Jersey roadside shortly after Jackson fled the scene. Based on eyewitness accounts, police believe the boy may be traveling with two teenage accomplices. His stepfather, Gabe Ugliano, has offered a cash reward for information leading to his capture. _

"Don't worry," I'd told him, seeing the anxious look on his face at the mention of _police._ "Mortal police could never find us." After all, the mist would point them in all the wrong directions. Wouldn't it?

The rest of the day I spent looking out the windows, bored but uneasy, yearning for my architecture book that had blown up with that Greyhound bus. I could really use some literature therapy, especially with Percy annoyingly pacing back and forth inside the train car. I needed some distance from this world; I need to get lost in the depth of words.

Soon, nighttime rolled around, and we dozed in our chairs, not able to afford berths in the sleeper car. My neck got horribly stiff, and Percy drooled a little bit on his shirt.

"I won't help you," He mumbled in his sleep. "Go away… won't help…"

Once, Grover bleated in his sleep and shuffled around so much that his fake foot came off. The sound of his tremendous snoring woke both Percy and me up, and we scrambled to stick Grover's fake foot on before any of the other passengers could notice.

"So," I said, turning to Percy once Grover's foot was secured. "Who needs your help?"

"What do you mean?"

"When you were asleep just now, you mumbled, 'I won't help you.' Who were you dreaming about?"

He looked at me uneasily, and I knew immediately that he was holding something back.

"Well… you see, I have been having these… these dreams. Where I'm in a dark cavern or something, and this voice is coming out of a deep chasm. It says stuff like_, barter with me_, and _I will give you what you want_. He says things will get better if I help him, if I aid him in overthrowing the gods. And he laughs so evilly… and there's always a dark, invisible force pulling me into the chasm. It's creepy. It might be Hades, because there are always ghosts around. Plus the cavern I'm in looks like part of the Underworld."

I was quiet for a long time. It could be Hades… but it didn't sound right. "That doesn't sound like Hades. He always appears on a black throne, and he never laughs."

"He offered my mother in trade. Who else could do that?"

"I guess… if he meant 'Help me rise from the Underworld.' If he wants war with the Olympians. But why ask you to bring him the master bolt when he already has it?"

Percy shook his head. Grover snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head. I readjusted his cap so it covered his horns.

"Percy, you can't barter with Hades," I said. "You know that right? He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time—"

"This time?" He asked. "You mean you've run into them before?"

My hand flew automatically to my necklace, specifically to my bead with the painted Pine tree, and fingered it, remembering Thalia and how she was taken far too soon.

"Let's just say I've got no love for the Lord of the Dead. You can't be tempted to make a deal for your mom."

"What would you do if it was your dad?"

"That's easy," I said icily. "I'd leave him to rot."

Percy looked dismayed. "You're not serious?"

I fixed my eyes on him, ready to explain that I was as eager to save my father as I would be to barter with Hades. "My dad's resented me since the day I was born, Percy. He never wanted a baby. When he got me, he asked Athena to take me back and raise me on Olympus because he was too busy with his work." I couldn't hide the resentment in my voice. "She wasn't happy about that. She told him heroes needed to raised by their mortal parent."

"But how… I mean, I guess you weren't born in a hospital…"

"I appeared on my father's doorstep, in a golden cradle, carried down from Olympus by Zephyr the West Wind. You'd think my dad would remember that as a miracle, right? Like, maybe he'd taken some digital photos or something. But he always talked about my arrival as if it were the most inconvenient thing that had ever happened. When I was five he got married and totally forgot about Athena. He got a 'regular' mortal wife, and had two 'regular' mortal kids, and tried to pretend that I didn't exist."

Percy looked uncomfortably out the window. "My mom married a really awful guy," He said. "Grover told me she did it to protect me, to hide me in the scent of a human family. Maybe that's what your dad was thinking."

Please… my dad, _protecting_ me? It was about as possible as Aphrodite giving up her lipstick and saying she wanted to be a love- free, ugly, sandal-wearing hippie for the rest of her immortal life.

"He doesn't care about me. His wife—my stepmom—treated me like a freak. She wouldn't let me play with her children. My dad went along with her. Whenever something dangerous happened—you know, something with monsters—they would look at me resentfully, like 'How dare you put our family at risk.' Finally, I took the hint. I wasn't wanted. I ran away."

"How old were you?"

"Seven."

"But… you couldn't have gotten all the way to Half-Blood Hill by yourself."

"Not alone, no. Athena watched over me, guided me toward help. I made a couple of friends who took care of me, for a short time, anyway."

I started thinking back to that fateful fight on Half-Blood Hill, how Thalia looked so weak, so helpless…

Percy had turned away, noticing how distant I was. The silence on the train soon lulled me into a dreamless sleep.

Towards the end of our second day on the train, we passed over the churning, brownish water of the Mississippi River, which marked our entrance in to St. Louis, Missouri. When we got close, I craned my neck to see the famed Gateway Arch. It stuck out of the skyscrapers like a metallic rainbow, welcoming tourists. The curve fascinated me; how could something with such a degree of curvature not cave in?

"I want to do that," I sighed.

"What?" Percy asked beside, peering at the Arch too, but not with as much keenness as I was.

"Build something like that. You ever see the Parthenon, Percy?"

"Only in pictures."

"Someday, I'm going to see it in person. I'm going to build the greatest monument to the gods, ever. Something that'll last a thousand years."

Percy laughed. "You? An architect?"

I flushed and tried not to let that obvious insult get to me. "Yes, an architect. Athena expects her children to create things, not just tear them down, like a certain god of earthquakes I could mention."

Percy recoiled icily at my remark and stared out the window. I immediately felt bad.

"Sorry," I said. "That was mean."

"Can't we work together?" He pleaded. "I mean, didn't Athena and Poseidon ever cooperate?"

I thought about it. Did they _ever_ work together? In the stories, they were usually trying to one-up each other. Well, there was one time… "I guess… the chariot." I said tentatively. "My mom invented it, but Poseidon created horses out of the crests of waves. So they had to work together to make it complete."

"Then we could cooperate, too. Right?"

I stared out the window, watching as the Arch was hidden behind a hotel, disappearing from view.

"I suppose," I said at last.

We pulled into the Amtrack station downtown. Over the intercom, a static voice told us we'd have a three-hour layover before departing for Denver.

Grover mumbled something about food and stretched.

"Come on, goat boy," I told him. "Sightseeing."

"Sightseeing?" He asked warily.

"The Gateway Arch," I said. "This may be my only chance to ride to the top. Are you coming or not?"

Percy and Grover exchanged a wary glance. I could tell Percy really didn't want to, but he seemed to be holding his tongue. That was good; I was going with or without them. After spending two days cramped between a drooling son of Poseidon and a bleating satyr, I would have battled another monster to get off that train.

Finally, Grover shrugged. "As long as there's a snack bar without monsters."

We walked about a mile to get to the Arch. The late-day lines were short, so it didn't take long to get in. When we got into the underground museum, I kept staring at the numerous artifacts from the 1800s, pointing out the old, leathery cover stretching out over wooden rods on a covered wagon, or handwritten letters with their intricate cursive sprawled out on the worn paper.

"You know," I told Percy and Grover, while reading an article about supports. "Back in the 1940s, the then-governor of Missouri held a contest for this design. A contest! Man, don't you wish you would've won? I mean, to get the opportunity to design such a magnificent structure would've been pretty awesome, don't you think?"

They didn't answer, but I was already too busy reading another article about the construction equipment to care.

"Guys," Percy said suddenly. "You know the gods' symbol of power?"

I looked over, momentarily forgetting about beams and lifts. "Yeah?"

"Well, Hade—"

Grover loudly cleared his throat. "We're in a public place… You mean our friend downstairs?"

"Um, right." Percy sputtered. "Our friend _way_ downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?"

"You mean the Helm of Darkness," I said. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to him during the winter solstice council meeting."

"He was there?" Percy asked.

I nodded. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus—the darkest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful that my invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true…" I said, thinking back to what people have said it's capable of.

"It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, seen, or heard. He can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?"

"But then…how do we know he's not right here, watching us?" Percy asked.

Grover and I exchanged nervous glances.

"We don't." Grover said.

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," Percy remarked. "Got any blue jelly beans left?"

The elevator dinged open, and we stepped in. This rather stout lady stepped in also, holding a coffee-colored Chihuahua wearing a blinding rhinestone collar.

The elevator started moving. It was an odd sensation, riding in an elevator that curved.

"No parents?" The fat lady asked.

Her beady eyes stared down at us, and she had foul sharp, discolored teeth. A denim hat flopped around on her head, and her denim dress bulged, making her look like a blue-jean balloon.

"They're below," I said. "Afraid of heights."

"Oh, the poor darlings."

The Chihuahua growled ferociously, more ferociously than it should've been able to. "Now, now, sonny," The woman chastised. "Behave."

"Sonny." Percy said. "Is that his name?"

"No," The lady told him. Then she smiled as if that cleared everything up.

We reached the top of the Arch and ambled out into the observation deck.

The view took my breath away. The Mississippi River glinted in the sun below, and the trees were like plastic ferns.

In my mind, I rebuilt the Arch. The windows should've been bigger as to offer a better view, and the floor would've been much cooler if it was see-through. And about the support—

"Observation deck will be closing in a few minutes," Said a ranger, interrupting my architectural daydream.

I sighed. Percy seemed jittery and steered us toward the elevator, acting like he couldn't move fast enough. Grover and I stepped into the elevator, and Percy was about to get in himself, when he realized it was full.

"Next car, sir." The ranger said.

"We'll get out," I said. I didn't want to know what would happen if we left him alone. After all, Percy did have a knack for blowing stuff up, and I didn't want to risk this wonderful monument. Besides, I was starting to get a little jumpy, like something was wrong. "We'll wait with you."

"Naw, it's okay. I'll see you guys at the bottom." He said.

I looked over at Grover; he seemed to be thinking the same thing. But the elevator door slid closed, and we started to descend.

When we reached the bottom, we stepped out and waited by the elevator.

One minute passed. Another one. Still no Percy. I was getting ancy; Grover was pacing around, nervously whimpering.

"We should go outside," I said suddenly. "Maybe we can see if something's happening."

"Good idea," Grover said, and we hurriedly flew through the museum, not even bothering to take a second look at the artifacts.

When we got outside, we looked up at the Arch, but it was too high up to really see anything. Everything around us seemed so peaceful; the sun was almost touching the horizon and people were walking around aimlessly, maybe deciding between dinner or a movie. It seemed almost impossible that our friend could be getting killed up six hundred feet in the air in a national monument. But that didn't mean it wasn't happening.

Suddenly, a column of fire flared sideways out the side of the Arch. Its orange flame licked the clouds, and stayed in the air far longer than a regular fire could have, almost like it was shot out of a flamethrower. Bystanders gasped. I paled as I watched the flame recede, and stared at the smoldering metal hole.

"Oh my gods," I breathed. "What is happening up there?"

People had gathered, looking up at the gaping hole in the side of the Gateway Arch. And then something fell.

At first I thought it was a person, but it was a stick- like thing. It brightly glinted in the sun as it fell, faster and faster towards the Mississippi. It landed in the river with an audible splash. I paled as I finally recognized it: Percy's sword. I latched my hand onto Grover's shoulder.

"That was…" I sputtered.

"Riptide," Grover sounded strangled. "Oh, gods."

We waited in dead silence as we kept our eyes trained on the hole. Moments passed. With each second, my hand gripped tighter onto Grover.

And then, something fell.

No, some_one_. My blood turned to ice as I watched the body plummet through the air, flames dancing on the clothes. Smoke curled out behind him like wings, but he wasn't flying.

Percy.

Ambulances had arrived on the scene, as did tons of news vans. The cameras were trained on the hole in the Arch, but I was more concerned about the boy falling to his death. More people crowded around, relaying information to one another. Helicopters started buzzing overhead just as Percy splashed into the water. When he collided with the river, a pang of anguish iced my stomach.

Reporters were talking about the accident. I kept staring at the river, but people were passing through my line of vision. Ten minutes passed, and Percy was still not here. My heart fell to my stomach as the truth dawned on me: He might not be coming back.

"We have to look for him," Grover said frantically and took off through the crowd. I followed him, not knowing what else to do.

We searched the crowds, not having much luck. "Percy!" Grover yelled. "Percy!"

Nothing.

And then, just as I was scanning the crowd and losing hope, Grover bleated out, "Perrr-cy!" I turned and watched as Grover tackled him in a bear hug. "We thought you'd gone to Hades the hard way!"

I tried to look angry at Percy for staying up there, but my tremendous relief ruined the façade. "We can't leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?"

"I sort of fell." Percy said.

"Six hundred and thirty feet?" I was incredulous; how had he survived?

Before he could answer, cops shouted, "Gangway!" The crowd parted and some paramedics hustled past, pushing a woman on a stretcher. I recognized her vaguely as one of the people who was up in the Arch.

She way saying, "And then this huge dog, this fire-breathing Chihuahua—"

I raised my eyebrow. Fire-breathing Chihuahua? Just_ what_ was Percy doing up there?

"Okay, ma'am," One paramedic said. "Just calm down. Your family is fine. The medication is starting to kick in."

"I'm not crazy! This boy jumped out of the hole and the monster disappeared." Her eyes landed and Percy, and she shrieked, "There he is! That's the boy!"

Percy grabbed us and pushed us through the crowd.

"What's going on?" I demanded. "Was she talking about the Chihuahua on the elevator?"

He turned around, and told us the story. According to him, the fat lady with the Chihuahua wasn't a fat lady at all. She was Echidna, the infamous Mother of Monsters. I paled when I heard the name. Her rhinestone-clad Chihuahua was the Chimera itself. He told us about how the Chimera had blowtorched the Arch, and would've killed him, had he not jumped. When he jumped, he landed in the Mississippi and had a conversation with a water Nereid, straight from Poseidon's court, who had advised him to go to Santa Monica. Father's orders.

"Whoa," Grover said once Percy had finished. "We've got to get you to Santa Monica! You can't ignore a summons from your dad."

We passed a news reporter then, and what she was saying caused us to freeze.

"Percy Jackson. That's right, Dan. Channel Twelve has learned that the boy who may have caused this explosion fits the description of a young man wanted by authorities for a serious New Jersey bus accident three days ago. _And_ the boy is believed to be traveling west. For our viewers at home, here is a photo of Percy Jackson."

We ducked behind a van and slipped into a nearby alley.

"First things first," Percy said. "We've got to get out of town."

Amazingly, we made it back to the Amtrack station without being seen. We boarded the train just before it pulled out for Denver. It was kind of remarkable that we'd managed to fry a national monument and have Percy meet the mother of all monsters—literally— all in three hours, and still manage to catch a train. I sighed and leaned my head back against the seat; I really should stop being amazed with Percy's ability to brush against death. I guess it was just all part of the Percy-package.

We pulled out of the station just as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. A couple stars came out, but it was hard to see with the police lights pulsing against the city skyline.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. If I did, Beckendorf would be alive, Rachel would've jumped off a cliff, and Bessie would be a girl. :) Enjoy!

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The next afternoon, seven days before our deadline, we rolled into Denver. We hadn't eaten since the night before in the dining car, somewhere in the vast expanse of Kansas landscape. We also hadn't taken showers since Camp Half-Blood, and that was no doubt evident.

After the Furies, Medusa, and Percy's little encounter with Echidna, an Iris- message back to camp was overdue.

"Let's try to contact Chiron," I suggested. "I want to tell him about your talk with the river spirit."

"We can't use phones, right?"

"I'm not talking about phones."

We wandered around downtown Denver for a half hour, looking for anything that could produce a rainbow. The dry heat was a change from the muggy, moist St. Louis air. The Rocky Mountains loomed in the distance, watching over us.

Finally, I caught sight of an empty do-it-yourself car wash. I strode towards the stall farthest from the street; the last thing we wanted was a patrol car to ride up and recognize Percy.

"What exactly are we doing?" Percy asked as Grover took hold of the spray gun.

"It's seventy-five cents," He grumbled, ignoring Percy's question. "I've only got two quarters left. Annabeth?"

"Don't look at me," I said. "The dining car wiped me out."

Percy fished in his pocket. He pulled out a quarter, two nickels, and a golden drachma. He handed Grover the quarter.

"Excellent," Grover said. "We could do it with a spray-bottle, of course, but the connection isn't as good, and my arm gets tired of pumping."

Percy looked utterly confused. "What are you talking about?"

Grover slipped in the quarters and turned the knob to FINE MIST. "I-M'ing."

"Instant messaging?"

"_Iris_-messaging," I corrected. "The rainbow goddess Iris carries messages for the gods. If you know how to ask, and she's not too busy, she'll do the same for half-bloods."

"You summon the goddess with a spray gun?"

Grover pointed the spray gun in the air, pulled the trigger, and a thick white mist exploded from the nozzle. "Unless you know an easier way to make a rainbow."

Percy looked on as the late afternoon light filtered through the mist, and a beautiful array of colors danced in the vapor. I held out my hand.

"Drachma, please." I said. He handed it over.

I raised the coin over my head in a respectful gesture. "O goddess, accept out offering."

I tossed the golden coin into the rainbow. In a golden shimmer, it was gone.

"Half-Blood Hill," I requested.

It took a few moments, but before long, we were gazing through the spray at the glittering strawberry fields, and the Long Island Sound in the distance. The woods were green and healthy, and the sound of laughter flowed from the valley. We seemed to be on the Big House porch. Standing in front of us, with his back turned, was Luke. Even from behind, I could tell who he was. His sandy hair seemed just a tad longer, and was dressed in the customary shorts and orange T-shirt. He had a bronze sword strapped to his side, and was intently staring down into the camp. It made me wonder what he was thinking about…

"Luke!" Percy called.

He turned around, eyes wide. I caught my breath at the sight of him.

His startled eyes were a deep blue, and his golden hair framed his tanned face beautifully. The sunlight acted almost like paint, covering up his puckered scar with a sunny shadow and blending it in with his features.

"Percy!" His scarred face broke into a warm smile. "Is that Annabeth, too? Thank the gods! Are you guys okay?"

"We're… uh… fine," I stammered. His hair was gleaming in the distant Long Island sunlight, and he was staring right at me. My stomach churned—with happiness or anxiety, I couldn't tell. The expectant twinkle in his eyes made me clam up. I madly started wiping the dirt off my shirt and yanking my hand through my hair, trying to make myself look half-way presentable. "We thought—Chiron—I mean—"

"He's down at the cabins," Luke said, his formerly happy smile fading. "We're having some issues with the campers. Listen, is everything cool with you? Is Grover all right?"

"I'm right here," Grover called, holding the nozzle out to one side so he could step into Luke's line of vision. "What kind of issues?"

Before Luke could open his mouth, a big, red Lincoln Continental pulled into the car wash with its stereo turned to maximum-volume rap. It slid into the stall next to our own, the pavement shaking from the loud music. I was silently thankful for the distraction from Luke's prying eyes, which seemed to bring out sides of me that had never before surfaced.

"Chiron had to—what's that noise?" Luke yelled.

"I'll take care of it!" I shouted, feeling very relieved to have an excuse to duck out of Luke's sight. "Grover, come on!"

"What?" Grover asked, confused. "But—"

"Give Percy the nozzle and come on!" I ordered.

He grudgingly handed Percy the spray gun while muttering something about the Oracle of Delphi being easier to understand than girls. He followed me out of the stall and towards the horrid music.

We approached the car, resisting from plugging our ears. Stepping out of the car was a teenager, several years older than me. He wore a raggedy white tank-top and sagging shorts.

"Hey!" I shouted over the music. "What is that, a cat dying?"

He turned towards me. It was obvious he didn't like his music to be compared to a cat's death. "What do you want, kiddos?" His voice was a little scary and imposing, but I didn't back down.

"We want you to turn off that gods-awful—"

The teed-off expression on the man's face caused Grover to intervene. "Um, what she means is, could you please turn down that music?"

He scoffed. "Why? Is the music hurting your ears?" His voice dripped with mock-sympathy, but he turned down the music. The sudden silence rang in my ears. "You know, why don't you go back to daycare?"

"Why don't you go back to the hole you crawled out of?"

"You know what, you little br—"

"Um," Grover butted in. "Annabeth, we can probably leave now…"

"Just wait a second…" I whispered to him. And then I got a Percy-like idea. "Grover, can you try a little woodland magic?"

He stared at me for some time, trying to figure out my motives. Then he smiled a devilish grin. "Do you prefer roots or grass?"

"Surprise me."

He took out his reed pipes and blew a few notes.

"What is this, music time?" The man scoffed. "Listen, kids, why don't—" Suddenly, he let out a shrill shriek.

A thick, coarse weed had sprouted out of the concrete as easily as if were dirt, and was steadily climbing his leg. By the time he noticed, it was already twirling around his knee.

"What is this?" He cried, shaking his leg furiously. "Get it off!"

I tried to contain my laughter. Was it wrong that I was enjoying this?

"Alright, Grover," I said, giggling. "Let him go."

The man looked at us, appalled. The weed recoiled down, and disappeared into the ground.

The man sprinted back to his car, and peeled out of that car wash like a kindergartner racing to recess.

Grover and I took one look at each other, and cracked up. We rounded back to the other stall. Percy stood there, staring at the place where the mist had dissipated with an empty expression.

We stopped laughing. "What happened, Percy?" I asked, alarmed by his vacant look. "What did Luke say?"

"Not much," He said weakly. "Come on, let's find some dinner."

A few minutes later, we sat in a cracking booth in a luminous chrome diner. Families laughed and ate around us, and made me feel a little nostalgic for Camp.

A waitress donned in a pink dress and apron came over with a pencil and pad notched in her hand, ready to write. She skeptically raised her eyebrow. "Well?"

"We, um, want to order dinner." Percy said.

"You kids have money to pay for it?"

I looked down at the table. _Crap._ We didn't have a quarter to our name. My eyes nervously darted around, trying to rack my famished brain for any excuse this woman might believe, when the building suddenly rumbled, as if shaken by a severe bout of thunder.

I looked outside, and froze. Pulled up to the curb was a motorcycle the size of an infant whale. It had crimson flames painted on its gas tank, and a menacing shotgun holster affixed to either side, complete with shotguns. The leather seat didn't look right. The color and texture almost reminded me of human skin.

I looked up at the man, and chills rippled up my spine. An evil kind of power radiated from him, and I didn't like it. He had an oily black crew cut and scarred cheeks, like he's been in one too many fights. A red muscle shirt clung to his buff figure, and a hunting knife was strapped to his side, giving off a clear warning: no one messes with me, unless you want to die.

His face was viciously handsome, and not in a charming way. His red wrap-around shades covered his eyes, like he was hiding something.

When he stepped foot into the diner, an odd desert wind blew through. As if on command, all the people rose, with the same blank faces plastered on that a hypnotist might cause his volunteer to have. But the biker just dismissively waved his hand, and the people sat back down. The waitress blinked, and asked us again, "You kids have money to pay for it?"

"It's on me," The biker said, approaching. He slid into the booth next to me, pinning me uncomfortably against the window.

The waitress was gaping at him with wide eyes.

"Are you still here?" He said, pointing a finger at her. She stiffened and spun around on her heel, marching back to the kitchen.

Once we were waitress-free, the biker turned on Percy. Suddenly, different irrational emotions all rolled inside me: I felt irritated at Percy, and how he'd almost gotten us killed. I was mad at this whole stupid quest. I was bitter towards my father, and all the times I had lost something important. I felt like picking a fight.

But something wasn't right. I looked over at the biker, and the feelings intensified. I looked at his physique, and he looked strangely familiar. And then it hit me.

This was no other than Ares, god of war.

The biker flashed Percy a malicious grin. "So you're old Seaweed's kid, huh?"

Percy's jaw tightened. I could tell the god's powers were affecting him also. Percy _should've_ been cautious that this random man knew so much about him. He _should've_ taken this as a warning sign. But he was under Ares's spell, and he _wasn't_ doing what he should.

"What's it to you?" He spat.

My eyes widened, waiting for Ares to lose his temper and turn him into a pile of kelp. "Percy, this is—" I tried to warn him, but Ares just raised his hand in silence.

"S'okay. I don't mind a little attitude. Long as you remember who's boss. You know who I am, little cousin?"

I watched recognition flicker across his face as Percy had a mini-revelation. "You're Clarisse's dad," he said. "Ares, god of war."

Ares gave an evil smirk and took off his shades. His eyes were gone; the empty sockets were blazing with a searing fire. "That's right, punk. I heard you broke Clarisse's spear."

"She was asking for it."

"Probably. That's cool. I don't fight my kids' fights, you know? What I'm here for—I heard you were in town. I got a little proposition for you."

Ares's smile got a little bit wicked, like he was going to enjoy this. And I had a feeling I wasn't.

Just then, the waitress returned. In her hands were heaping trays of food—mouthwatering cheeseburgers, fries, onion rings, and chocolate shakes.

Ares handed her a few golden drachmas.

She looked nervously down at the gold. "But these aren't…"

Ares pulled out his knife and started to scour his fingernails, oh-so-subtly giving off a clear message. "Problem, sweetheart?"

The waitress gulped, and left with the coins.

"You can't do that," Percy protested. "You can't just threaten people with a knife."

Ares laughed. "Are you kidding? I love this country. Best place since Sparta. Don't you carry a weapon, punk? You should. Dangerous world out there. Which brings me to my proposition. I need you to do me a favor."

"What favor could I do for a god?"

"Something a god doesn't have time to do himself. It's nothing much. I left my shield at an abandoned water park here in town. I was going on a little… date with my girlfriend. We were interrupted. I want you to fetch it for me."

"Why don't you go back and get it yourself?"

I held my breath; Percy sure did know how to aggravate the gods. The fire is Ares's eyes glowed a little hotter.

"Why don't I turn you into a prairie dog and run you over with my Harley? Because I don't feel like it. A god is giving you an opportunity to prove yourself, Percy Jackson. Will you prove yourself a coward?" He leaned forward intently. "Or maybe you only fight when there's a river to dive into, so your daddy can protect you."

The anger in Percy's eyes grew dangerously high; he looked ready to punch Ares.

"We're not interested," Percy said through gritted teeth. "We already have a quest."

Suddenly, my eyes were filled with the horrific images of death and destruction—fumes curling off the rubble of demolished buildings, gunpowder and smoke and blood and corpses on a battlefield. I closed my eyes furiously; I _so_ did not need those pictures in my head.

"I know all about your quest, punk. When that _item_ was first stolen, Zeus sent his best out looking for it: Apollo, Athena, Artemis, and me, naturally. If I couldn't sniff out a weapon that powerful…" He licked his lips, probably fantasizing about the prospect of possessing possibly the most powerful weapon in the world. "Well… if I can't find it, you go no hope. Nevertheless, I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. Your dad and I go way back. After all, I'm the one who told him my suspicions about old Corpse Breath."

"You told him Hades stole the bolt?"

"Sure. Framing somebody to start a war. Oldest trick in the book. I recognized it immediately. In a way, you got me to thank for your little quest."

"Thanks," Percy grumbled.

"Hey, I'm a generous guy. Just do my job, and I'll help you on your way. I'll arrange a ride west for you and your friends."

"We're doing fine on our own."

"Yeah, right. No money. No wheels. No clue what you're up against. Help me out, and maybe I'll tell you something you need to know. Something about your mom."

"My mom?" Percy's ears perked up.

Ares grinned. "That got your attention. The water park is a mile west on Delancy. You can't miss it. Look for the Tunnel of Love ride."

"What interrupted your date?" Percy asked. "Something scare you off?"

Ares bared his teeth menacingly, but there was something false about it. Like he was nervous.

"You're lucky you met me, punk, and not one of the other Olympians. They're not as forgiving of rudeness as I am. I'll meet you back here when you're done. Don't disappoint me."

And then he was gone.

"Not good," Grover said. "Ares sought you out, Percy. This is not good."

Percy stared out the window. He seemed intent on something; probably thinking over Ares's offer of giving him a clue about his mom.

But I was too lost in my own thoughts. Ares was on a date with Aphrodite, that was clear. But what wasn't clear is what scared him off, or 'interrupted', as Ares put it. And if it could make a war god run off, then I definitely wasn't looking forward to taking it on. Too bad I didn't have a choice.

"it's probably some kind of trick," Percy said. "Forget Ares. Let's just go."

"We can't," I said. "Look, I hate Ares as much as anybody, but you don't ignore the gods unless you want some serious bad fortune. He wasn't kidding about turning you into a rodent."

"Why does he need us?"

"Maybe it's a problem that requires brains," I mused. Brains. I had that. "Ares has strength. That's all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes."

"But this water park… he acted almost scared. What would make a god run away like that?"

I glanced at Grover. He seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"I'm afraid we'll have to find out."

We eventually found the park.

The sun was slowly sinking behind the mountains by the time we arrived. The water park must've been called _WATERLAND _at some point, but now, the worn-out sign just read_ WAT R A D._

The main gate was padlocked and topped with barbed wire. We peered into the park, and saw huge waterless slides and tubes and pipes, curling off into every which-way direction, all leading to empty pools. Tickets and old advertisements fluttered in the wind on the asphalt. With the sun setting, the place looked cheerless and eerie.

"If Ares brings his girlfriend here on a date," Percy said. "I'd hate to see what she looks like."

"Percy," I warned, staring up analytically at the barbed wire. "Be more respectful."

"Why? I thought you hated Ares."

"He's still a god." I said. "And his girlfriend is very temperamental."

"You don't want to insult her looks," Grover added.

"Who is she? Echidna?"

"No, Aphrodite," Grover said, dreamily. "Goddess of love."

"I thought she was married to somebody," Percy pushed on. "Hephaestus."

"What's your point?" Grover asked.

"Oh." Percy said, dropping the subject. "So how do we get in?"

_"Maia!"_ Grover shouted, and his shoes sprouted wings.

He flew over the fence, added in some unintended theatrics, and stumbled to a landing on the other side. He dusted off his jeans like he meant to do a somersault mid-air while almost crashing into the barbed wire. "You guys coming?"

I rolled my eyes and started climbing. Percy held down the barbed wire for me as I climbed over, and I did the same for him.

Night was approaching rapidly. Our shadows grew long as we strolled the park, looking for the Tunnel of Love. Before I found it, I caught sight of a souvenir shop that had been left open. Shrugging, we walked inside and caught sight of snow globes, pencils, postcards, keychains, and racks of—

"Clothes," I said dreamily, staring at the clothes like a blind man seeing light for the first time. "Fresh clothes."

"Yeah," Percy said, eyeing me. "But you can't just—"

"Watch me."

I gathered an entire rack of stuff in my arms and waddled toward the changing room. I slipped out of my dirty shorts and ratty T-shirt, and replaced them with a bright red Waterland shirt, flashy Waterland flower-print shorts, and even adorned some foamy flip-flops. I stashed some more items into a Waterland backpack, and strolled back out, leaving my forgotten clothes behind me.

Grover and Percy eyed me as I came back out.

"What the heck." Grover shrugged. Soon, we were all dressed up like walking advertisements for the obsolete park.

We continued searching for the Tunnel of Love. With the sun setting, I was worried we might not ever find it. I also got the feeling that something was off, like we shouldn't be here.

"So Ares and Aphrodite," Percy said, distracting me from my worries. "They have a thing going?"

"That's old gossip, Percy," I said to him. "Three-thousand-year-old gossip."

"What about Aphrodite's husband?"

"Well, you know," I started. "Hephaestus. The black-smith. He was crippled when he was a baby, thrown off Mount Olympus by Zeus. So he isn't exactly handsome. Clever with his hands, and all, but Aphrodite isn't into brains and talent, you know?"

"She likes bikers."

"Whatever."

"Hephaestus knows?"

"Oh, sure," I said. "He caught them together once. I mean, literally caught them, in a golden net, and invited all the gods to come and laugh at them. Hephaestus is always trying to embarrass them. That's why they meet in out-of-the-way places, like—"

Before I could finish, I caught sight of a huge, empty pool that was at least fifty yards across and shaped like a bowl. Around the rim stood a dozen Cupid statues with wings spread wide and bows notched to fire. On the opposite side, a tunnel opened up, probably where the water flowed into the pool. A giant sign hanging above it read,_ THRILL RIDE O' LOVE: THIS IS NOT YOUR PARENT'S TUNNEL OF LOVE!_

"Like that." I finished.

Grover crept towards the edge, slowly peering down. "Guys, look."

Stationed at the bottom of the pool was a pink-and-white two-seater boat with a canopy over the top. Little lovey-dovey hearts were painted intricately all over the boat. And in the left seat, polished and lustrous in the vanishing light, was a gleaming circle of bronze. Ares's shield.

"This is too easy," Percy said. "So we just walk down there and get it?"

I wasn't so sure. Nothing in this world ever came easily. At least, not for me. Not for any half-bloods, really.

I turned my attention on the nearest Cupid statue, where something had caught my eye. I ran my fingers over the statue's base.

"There's a Greek letter carved here," I mused. "Eta. I wonder…"

"Grover," Percy said. "You smell any monsters?"

He sniffed. "Nothing."

"Nothing—like, in-the-Arch-and-you-didn't-smell-Echidna nothing, or really nothing?"

Grover looked hurt. "I told you, that was underground."

"Okay, I'm sorry," He said, taking a deep breath. "I'm going down there."

"I'll go with you," Grover said feebly, looking like he wanted to do the opposite. I got the feeling he was trying to make up for what happened in St. Louis.

"No," Percy said. "I want you to stay on top with the flying shoes. You're the Red Baron, a flying ace, remember?" I smiled at Percy's comment. Maybe he wasn't_ completely_ hopeless… "I'll be counting on you for backup, in case something goes wrong."

Grover puffed up his chest a little, obviously flattered by Percy's words of encouragement. "Sure, but what could go wrong?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling. Annabeth, come with me—"

"Are you kidding?" I shrieked. My cheeks turned a bright crimson red. _Me?_ Go with _Percy_ on a love ride? No thanks.

"What's the problem now?" Percy demanded. Was he that naïve?

"Me, go with you to the… 'Thrill Ride of Love'? How embarrassing is that? What is someone saw me?" I shuddered at the thought of one of the Aphrodite girls, or even my own siblings, seeing us… together… down in that death bowl of 'love'.

"Who's going to see you?" Percy demanded, but he was turning red in the face. "Fine," He grumbled. "I'll do it myself."

But as he started down the side of the pool, I figured I'd better go with him or he'd probably get killed. I mean… it's not like that's the _only_ reason. There were plenty of other, perfectly valid and legit reasons that I should go down there with him, right?

"Why do boys have to mess everything up?" I muttered to myself, scrambling down after him.

Finally, we reached the boat. The shield was propped up on one seat, and lying next to it was pink silk scarf. It shimmered magically, and Percy picked it up like the clueless boy he is. Even from here, I could smell the scent coming from the scarf. I was momentarily lost in the indescribable smell, obviously Aphrodite's love magic, while my girl hormones were messing with my train of thought.

I quickly snapped out of it and snatched the scarf from Percy's hands, stuffing it in my pocket. It was Aphrodite's signature love magic, which caused the victim to fall in love with the first person he saw. And that first person, I'd realized, was me. "Oh, no you don't," I scolded him. "Stay away from that love magic."

"What?"

"Just get the shield, Seaweed Brain, and let's get out of here." The place was steadily getting more and more creepy as the sun went down. The Cupids' blank eyes looked evil and menacing with the dark shadows falling over them. I studied the boat, trying to keep my mind off of the blank stares of the statues. Something glinted in the soft evening light, something that look eerily familiar. I looked closer, and my brain started to think in overdrive. A Greek Eta.

And then I heard a faint _click, _so weak, it was almost silent.

Percy had reached for the shield. But something wasn't right. And then I saw what was in his hands: a strand of some kind of metal filament, so fine it was almost invisible. A trip wire.

"Wait," I said.

"Too late."

"There's another Greek letter on the side of the boat, another Eta. This is a trap."

Noise erupted all around us. It sounded like a million rusty gears grinding, as if the pool were transforming into one giant mechanism.

"Guys!" Grover yelled from above.

The Cupid statues were no longer statues. They were automatons now, and they were each aiming their bows. They shot, but not at us. They seemed to be firing at each other, but I was far from relieved. Silky cables trailed from the arrows, curving over the pool and anchoring to where they landed to form a huge star-like shape. Then smaller, metallic threads started to weave together between the main strands, making a net.

"We have to get out," Percy said.

"Duh!" I said, too anxious to say anything remotely close to my usual intelligent remarks.

Percy grabbed the shield as we ran, but going up the steep slope proved to be a challenge.

"Come on!" Grover shouted.

I saw that he was trying to hold a section of the net open for us, but tiny golden threads started to wrap around his hands wherever he touched.

Suddenly, the Cupids' heads popped open, revealing video cameras. Spotlights rose up all around the pool, blinding us, and a loudspeaker boomed: "Live to Olympus in one minute… Fifty-nine seconds, fifty-eight…"

"Hephaestus!" I screamed, enraged at the god of fire. "I'm so stupid! Eta is 'H'. He made this trap to catch his wife with Ares. Now we're going to be broadcast live to Olympus and look like absolute fools!"

We continued to scramble up the side when hatches opened up at the top, and out poured thousands of tiny, metallic, little—

"Spiders!" I screamed. "Sp—sp—aaah!"

I froze at the sight of the tiny, nasty, eight-legged arachnids. Their pointy little metal feet and blank eyes made me shudder. And to make matters worse, there seemed to be a trillion of the wind-up creepy crawlies.

I fell backward in terror, and would've gotten engulfed in the army of metallic spiders if Percy hadn't pulled me up and dragged me back to the boat.

I collapsed on the seat, paralyzed at the sight of them. Percy started kicking away the spiders as they manically swarmed aboard. He yelled at me to help, but I couldn't do much more than scream.

"Thirty, twenty-nine…"

The spiders were multiplying. They started to spit out strands of metal thread, trying to tie us down. Percy was working like a madman, breaking the strands and fighting off spiders, but it was just too overwhelming. It almost made me feel bad that I wasn't doing anything to help. Almost.

I could see Grover hovering about the pool with the flying sneakers, trying to pull the net loose, but it wasn't budging. I tried to make myself go into thinking-mode, but all that was running through my head was _SPIDER!_

"Fifteen, fourteen…"

"Grover!" Percy yelled. "Get into that booth! Find the 'on' switch!"

"But—"

"Do it!" He yelled.

I was far too busy screaming to try and make sense of what Percy was saying.

"Five, four…"

I swatted away some spiders, and then shrieked, horrified that I'd touched them.

"Two, one, _zero_!"

Suddenly, water exploded out of the pipes that lined the wall. It roared into the pool, sweeping away the spiders. Percy pulled me into a seat and fastened my seat belt, just as a massive tidal wave crashed into our boat. It whisked away the spiders, but doused us completely. I was, in a way, grateful for the soaking. It brought me back to my senses. Sort of.

I figured that the water was courtesy of Percy, obviously. I saw the cameras had started rolling, and I groaned internally at the thought of who was watching.

The boat was speeding forward, occasionally ricocheting off the side of the pool. By now, the water was high enough to shred us against the metal net. Then, the nose of the boat turned towards a tunnel, and we rocketed into the darkness.

I gripped the safety bar until my knuckles turned white, screaming as the boat shot curls and hugged corners and took forty-five degree plummets past pictures of Romeo and Juliet and a load of other Valentine's Day stuff.

And then we shot out of the tunnel and speeding straight towards the exit. I would've been relieved, but it wasn't over yet. The two gates that would've led to the exit pool were chained together. Two boats were piled against the barricade—one submerged, the other cracked in half.

"Unfasten your seatbelt!" Percy yelled over the roar of water.

"Are you crazy?" I yelled back.

"Unless you want to get smashed to death." He said, strapping the shield to his arm. "We're going to have to jump for it."

I guess that was the only way. It made perfect sense; I just had to multiply the force with the trajectory angle. Our force was maybe thirty miles-per-hour, and the trajectory angle was ninety degrees. We just had to jump at the right time. I gripped Percy's hand.

"On my mark," Percy said.

"No! On my mark!" I figured I was the only one who knew how to get maximum lift.

"What?"

"Simple physics!" I yelled. "Force times the trajectory angle—"

"Fine!" He shouted. "On _your_ mark!"

I scrutinized the scene before me. I waited three painful seconds before shouting "Now!"

We soared through the air, and I began to think that maximum lift was maybe a little more than necessary. We were thrown over the gates, past the pool, and down towards solid asphalt.

I felt someone grab my arm.

"Ouch!" I yelled.

Grover!

He was trying to pull us out of a crash landing, but we had too much momentum.

"You're too heavy!" Grover sputtered. "We're going down!"

We spiraled towards the ground as Grover tried to slow our fall.

Finally, we smashed into a photo-board. Grover's head fit perfectly into the hole where tourists would put their faces, pretending to be Noo-Noo the Friendly Whale. It was almost comical, and I would've laughed, but I was too busy groaning.

And then, just quickly as it had begun, the ordeal was over.

Once we caught our breath, I helped Percy get Grover out of the photo-board and thanked him for saving our lives.

I looked back warily at the Thrill Ride of Love. The water was slowly subsiding, and our boat had been utterly destroyed by the gates.

I saw that the Cupids were still filming at the entrance pool. They had pivoted so that their cameras were trained on us, the spotlights still in our faces.

"Show's over!" Percy yelled. "Thank you! Goodnight!"

The statues turned back to their original positions. The lights shut off, and the park was quiet and dark again. The placid dribble of water into the Thrill Ride of Love's entrance pool was the only sound in the park.

I looked at Percy. I guess it's safe to say that I respected him a little more now, after he, you know, saved my life. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all…

Percy hefted the shield on his arm and turned to us. "We need to have a little talk with Ares."


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: As usual, I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. (Cue exaggerated sigh.)**

**P.S.- I want to apologize for the lateness of this chapter... The website was being complicated, and wasn't letting me upload any new chapters. Good thing is, the chapter is here now, and I'll upload the next one as soon as it's done. Enjoy!**

* * *

The god was waiting for us in the diner parking lot.

"Well, well," Ares smirked. "You didn't get yourself killed."

"You knew it was a trap," Percy accused.

The evil smirk turned into a wicked grin. "Bet that crippled blacksmith was surprised when he netted a couple of stupid kids. You looked good on TV."

Percy shoved the shield at him. "You're a jerk."

I caught my breath, waiting for Ares to turn Percy into a gerbil, or mouse, or something of equal or less humility.

But Ares just grabbed the shield and spun in the air like pizza dough. It transformed into a more or less inconspicuous bullet-proof vest. He slung it on his back.

"See that truck over there?" The god pointed to an eighteen-wheeler parked across the street. "That's your ride. Take you straight to L.A., with one stop in Vegas."

I looked at the truck. On the back, in reverse-printed white on black letters, said KINDNESS INTERNATIONAL: HUMANE ZOO TRANSPORT. WARNING: LIVE WILD ANIMALS.

"You're kidding." Percy said.

Ares snapped his fingers. The back door unlatched. "Free ride west, punk. Stop complaining. And here's a little something for doing the job."

He slung a blue nylon backpack off his handlebars and tossed it to Percy.

He peeked inside, and said "I don't want your lousy—"

"Thank you, Lord Ares," Grover interrupted. I was glad Grover had said something before I had the chance to put Percy in a headlock and cover his mouth with tape. Sure, Percy's previous remarks had gone right past the god, but I didn't want to risk his snotty comments getting us killed. "Thanks a lot."

I glanced back at the nearly empty diner and saw the waitress that had served us was watching timidly out the window, like she was afraid Ares might hurt us. I watched as she dragged the fry cook out from the kitchen to see. She said something to him, and he nodded, held up a cheap, disposable camera, and snapped a picture of us.

_Wonderful_, I thought. _The first thing we need is more photo evidence of us, the three supposed teenage outlaws._

"You owe me one more thing," Percy growled. "You promised me information about my mother."

I tensed; whatever Ares had in mind to tell Percy would probably only fill his head with ideas, ideas that were risky and would surely get us killed. Because if I remembered anything from that first night, it's that mortals don't die in a great flash of light. It was most likely metamorphosis, a godly measure to take Percy's mother prisoner.

"You sure you can handle the news?" Ares kick-started the motorcycle. "She's not dead."

Percy took the news just how I expected he would. "What do you mean?"

"I mean she was taken away from the Minotaur before she could die. She turned into a shower of gold, right? That's metamorphosis. Not death. She's being kept."

"Kept. Why?"

"You need to study war, punk. Hostages. You take somebody to control somebody else."

"Nobody's controlling me."

He laughed. "Oh yeah? See you around, kid."

Percy balled up his fists, his anger peaking. Uh oh. "You're pretty smug, Lord Ares, for someone who runs from Cupid statues."

A hot, dry wind blew through, and the fire behind Ares's glasses blazed hotter. "We'll meet again, Percy Jackson. Next time you're in a fight, watch your back."

He revved the motorcycle, and roared off down Delancy. I held my breath the whole time, expecting him to turn back around and pounce on us.

"That was not smart, Percy." I said after he was gone from my sight, exhaling a little bit.

"I don't care."

"You don't want a god as your enemy. Especially not that god."

"Hey, guys," Grover warned. "I hate to interrupt, but…"

He pointed towards the diner. At the register, the last two customers were paying—two men in identical black jumpers, with a white logo plastered on their backs that boasted: KINDESS INTERNATIONAL.

"If we're taking the zoo express," Grover continued. "We need to hurry."

I was hesitant about jumping into a truck with who-knows-what, but I'd enough of Denver to last me a life time.

So, together, we ran across the street and climbed in the back of the truck, closing the door behind us.

The first thing I noticed was the smell. It was a gods-awful combination of a fridge-full of rotting food and the world's biggest pan of kitty litter.

The trailer was dark until Percy uncapped his pen, which I later learned was named _Anaklusmos_: Riptide. The blade emitted a dim bronze light over an extremely depressing scene: a row of filthy metal cages sat pushed against the wall, hosting a zebra, a male albino lion, and a gazelle.

Someone had obviously been thinking as much as a rock when they fed the animals: in the lion's cage sat a sack of turnips, which the carnivorous animal obviously didn't want. The poor thing was pacing around on soiled blankets, in a space too small for doing anything other than lying still, panting from the unventilated heat in the trailer. Flies buzzed around his pink eyes, and his ribs showed through his white fur.

The zebra and the gazelle were each given a Styrofoam tray of hamburger meat. The zebra's mane was matted with multi-colored chewing gum, like somebody had nothing better to do with their lives than spitting gum at this poor animal. The gazelle had a ludicrous silver balloon tied to one of his horns that read OVER THE HILL!

It made me sick, looking at what these animals had to live in.

"This is kindness?" Grover yelled. "Humane zoo transport?"

He looked ready to march back outside and beat the drivers up, and I would've helped him, but just then the engine roared to life, the trailer started to jerk forward, and we were forced to sit down or fall down.

We all huddled together on some mildewed feed sacks, trying to ignore the smell and the heat and the flies. Grover tried in vain to communicate with the animals using a series of goat bleats, but the caged up animals just stared at him sadly. I was all in favor of breaking the cages and freeing them immediately, but Percy pointed out that it wouldn't do much good until the truck stopped moving. I had to agree with him there.

Percy refilled the water jugs, and, using his sword, he had managed to drag the mismatched food out of the cages, giving the lion the meat, and the turnips to the zebra and gazelle.

As Grover calmed the gazelle down, I used my knife to cut off the stupid balloon from his horn. I wanted to cut the gun out of the zebra's mane too, but I was afraid I would hurt the animal with the trailer bumping around so much. After we'd done all we could at the moment, we settled in for the night.

Grover coiled up on a turnip sack; I searched through the pack Ares had given us and found a package of Oreos. I opened the package and nibbled on the cream-filled cookies unenthusiastically.

My mind drifted back to the water park, how I'd basically lost my mind at the sight of those spiders. Even thinking about the creepy things made me shudder. I hated that I had cower whenever I saw a spider. It was ridiculous; I despised the fact that _Percy _had to save me. It was embarrassing. But, then again, I probably would've been overrun by the spiders if Percy hadn't fended them off. I guess I owed him an apology.

"Hey," I began. "I'm sorry for freaking out back at the water park, Percy."

"That's okay."

"It's just…" I shuddered. "Spiders."

"Because of the Arachne story," Percy said. "She got turned into a spider for challenging your mom to a weaving contest, right?"

I nodded. "Arachne's children have been taking revenge on the children of Athena ever since. If there's a spider within a mile of me, it'll find me. I hate the creepy little things. Anyway, I owe you."

"We're a team, remember?" I smiled. "Besides, Grover did the fancy flying."

Half-asleep, Grover mumbled, "I was pretty amazing, wasn't I?"

Percy and I laughed.

I pulled apart an Oreo and handed Percy half. "In the Iris message… did Luke really say nothing?"

He munched on his cookie and looked straight ahead, confirming that I was right: there was something he wasn't telling me. "Luke said he and you go way back. He also said Grover wouldn't fail this time. Nobody would turn into a pine tree."

I flinched inwardly at the indirect mention of Thalia. It had been close to five years since I actually talked about my old friend. I felt guilty that I'd gone this long without really giving a second thought to her and her fate. In the corner, Grover let out a mournful bray.

"I should've told you the truth from the beginning." Grover said to Percy, his voice trembling. "I thought if you knew what a failure I was, you wouldn't want me along."

"You were the satyr who tried to rescue Thalia, the daughter of Zeus." Percy guessed.

He nodded glumly.

"And the other two half-bloods Thalia befriended, the ones who got safely to camp…" He looked at me. I could just barely read his expression in the dim light emitting from his sword; it was one of satisfying knowledge, one of humble amazement. "That was you and Luke, wasn't it?"

I put down my uneaten Oreo; the talk of my depressing childhood had diminished my appetite. "Like you said, Percy, a seven-year-old half-blood wouldn't have made it very far alone. Athena guided me toward help. Thalia was twelve. Luke was fourteen. They'd both run away from home, like me. They were happy to take me with them. They were… amazing monster-fighters, even without training. We traveled north from Virginia without any real plans, fending off monsters for about two weeks before Grover found us."

"I was supposed to escort Thalia to camp," He said, sniffling. "Only Thalia. I had strict orders from Chiron: don't do anything that would slow down the rescue. We knew Hades was after her, see, but I just couldn't leave Luke and Annabeth by themselves. I thought… I thought I could lead all three of them to safety. It was my fault the Kindly Ones caught up with us. I froze. I got scared on the way back to camp and took some wrong turns. If I'd just been a little quicker…"

"Stop it," I said. I couldn't stand Grover beating himself up over this. "No one blames you. Thalia didn't blame you, either."

"She sacrificed herself to save us," He said miserably. "Her death was my fault. The Council of Cloven Elders said so."

"Because you wouldn't leave two other half-bloods behind?" Percy asked. "That's not fair."

"Percy's right," I said. "I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for you, Grover. Neither would Luke. We don't care what the council says."

Despite our condolences, he continued to sniffle dejectedly in the dark. "It's just my luck. I'm the lamest satyr ever, and I find the two most powerful half-bloods of the century, Thalia and Percy."

"You're not lame," I insisted. "You've got more courage than any other satyr I've ever met. Name one other who would dare go to the Underworld. I bet Percy is really glad you're here right now."

I kicked him in the shin, urging him along.

"Yeah," Percy said, shooting me a look. "It's not luck that you found Thalia and me, Grover. You've got the biggest heart of any satyr ever. You're a natural searcher. That's why you'll be the one who finds Pan."

Grover heaved a deep, content sigh. I waited for him to say something, but his breathing only got heavier. When I heard snoring, I realized he'd fallen asleep.

"How does he do that?" Percy marveled.

"I don't know," I said. Sometimes I wished I could fall asleep as effortlessly as Grover, instead of having to toss and turn at night, thinking about the past, the future. Life. "But that was a really nice thing you told him."

"I meant it."

We sat in silence, passing mile after mile. I absently reached up and rubbed my camp necklace, one of my most treasured possessions. My mind wandered to Thalia. I missed her so; I missed her eccentric ways, her—literally—electric attitude. She was always fun to be around. How old would she be now? She was twelve when I was seven, so she should be around seventeen now. I wondered if she was conscious inside her tree, and, if she was, did she think about us? I like to think that she did, but I really never know.

"That pine-tree bead," Percy remarked after a few uncomfortable moments of silence. "Is that from your first year?"

I looked down; I hadn't even realized that I was rubbing that specific bead, though it was no surprise. I always touched that bead went I felt lonely and scared, just to remind myself that I wasn't alone. That I had friends to lean on.

"Yeah," I said. "Every August, the counselors pick the most important event of the summer, and they paint it on that year's beads. I've got Thalia's pine tree, a Greek trireme on fire, a centaur in a prom dress—now_ that_ was a weird summer…"

"And the collage ring is your father's?"

I tensed, remembering the golden ring that hung along with my beads. "That's none of your—" But I stopped myself. I had to stop being so defensive about him. Maybe it would feel good to let someone in… "Yeah," I sighed. "Yeah, it is."

"You don't have to tell me."

"No… it's okay." I took a shaky breath. This was my first time admitting the story behind the ring. "My dad sent it to me folded up in a letter, two summers ago. The ring was, like, his main keepsake from Athena. He wouldn't have gotten through his doctoral program at Harvard without her… That's a long story. Anyway, he said he wanted me to have it. He apologized for being a jerk, and said he loved me and missed me. He wanted me to come home and live with him."

"That doesn't sound so bad."

"Yeah, well… the problem was, I believed him. I tried to go home for the school year, but my stepmom was the same as ever. She didn't want her kids put in danger by living with a freak." I said resentfully, speaking of my stepmom with bitterness. "Monsters attacked. We argued. Monsters attacked. We argued. I didn't even make it though winter break. I called Chiron and come right back to Camp Half-Blood."

"You think you'll ever try living with your dad again?"

I didn't meet his eyes. "Please. I'm not into self-inflicted pain."

"You shouldn't give up," He told me. "You should write him a letter or something."

"Thanks for the advice," I said coldly. "But my father's made his choice about who he wants to live with."

We fell back into an awkward silence. I thought about my dad, and about my stepmom. They were so insensitive to me; I enjoyed fighting off the monsters as much as they enjoyed seeing their_ perfect_ family put in danger. It made me sick, how my dad didn't once stand up for me when my stepmom and I were fighting. He would just rub her shoulders, encouraging her, as she yelled at me.

I was so lost in my fury that I was startled when Percy spoke up, bringing up a subject so much different than self-pitying thoughts.

"So if the gods fight," He said. "Will things line up like the Trojan war? Will it be Athena versus Poseidon?"

I leaned my head on the backpack that Ares had given us, slowly shutting my eyes. "I don't know what my mom will do. I just know I'll fight next to you."

"Why?"

"Because you're my friend, Seaweed Brain. Any more stupid questions?"

He was silent after that, and soon sleep overwhelmed me.

Fortunately, it was a nice, dreamless slumber. That's how I like it.

I woke up the next morning to silence.

At first, I didn't see anything wrong with the silence. Silence meant peace, tranquility. Silence was good.

But we were stowaways on a truck, and_ silence_ meant no engine.

Which meant we weren't moving. And if we weren't moving, then nobody would be driving. And when people aren't driving, they're usually checking on their cargo…

Crap.

_We _were the cargo.

Grover was already up. I looked at him, and he shared my thoughts: We needed to hide.

He sprang into action, shaking the snoring Percy out of his sleep. He mumbled when came around, drowsy from his doze.

"The truck's stopped," He said. "We think they're coming to check on the animals."

"Hide!" I hissed.

I whipped out my invisibility cap and put it on, instantly vanishing. I pushed up against the trailer wall, keeping my breathing measured. I watched as Percy and Grover hurriedly dove behind some feed sacks, trying their best to imitate turnips.

The trailer doors creaked open, spilling in dry heat and harsh sunlight.

"Man!" One of the truckers exclaimed, waving his hand in front of nose, wafting away the smell. "I wish I hauled appliances."

He climbed inside and poured some water into the animals' dishes.

"You hot, big boy?" He asked the lion, splashing a bucketful of water into the lion's face.

The lion roared in ire.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," The man said.

The trucker threw the antelope a grimy Happy Meal bag. He smirked at the zebra. "How ya doin', Stripes? 'Least we'll be getting rid of _you_ at this stop. You like magic shows? You're gonna love this one. They're gonna saw you in half!"

The zebra, wild-eyed with panic, backed away from the man frightfully.

Suddenly, I got an idea. I quietly crept across the trailer and banged three frisk knocks on the tin trailer wall.

"What do you want, Eddie?" The trucker yelled.

A voice—presumably Eddie's—called back, "Maurice? What'd ya say?"

"What are you banging for?"

_Knock, knock, knock._

Outside, Eddie yelled, "What banging?"

Maurice rolled his eyes and went back outside, cursing at Eddie for being such an idiot.

I walked back across the trailer, having done my duty. I crouched behind the turnip sacks with the boys, and took off my hat.

"This transport business can't be legal," I said.

"No kidding," Grover said. He paused, as if listening. "The lion says these guys are animal smugglers!"

It didn't surprise me.

"We've got to free them!" Grover said. We looked at Percy, waiting for his move.

Percy looked at the zebra, which was intently staring back. Then it hit me: Poseidon created horses, and zebras were a close relative. Since Percy was the son of their creator, then it would make sense if he could understand them. They were probably conversing.

The truckers outside were still yelling at each other, but I knew we didn't have much time until they came back. Abruptly, Percy uncapped Riptide and slashed the lock off the zebra's cage.

The zebra burst out of the impending confinement, and bowed thankfully to Percy. Grover held up his hands and muttered something over the animal, probably a blessing.

Just as Maurice poked his head back into the trailer, the zebra leaped over him and ran into the street. There was yelling and screaming and honking. We rushed to the trailer doors just in time to see the zebra galloping down a boulevard lined with hotels and casinos and bright neon signs. That's when I realized we had just released a zebra in Las Vegas.

Maurice and Eddie ran after the animal, and a few policemen ran after them, shouting, "Hey! You need a permit for that!"

"Now would be a good time to leave," I muttered.

"The other animals first," Grover insisted.

Percy cut the locks to the remaining cages, and Grover spoke the same blessing he'd used for the zebra over the lion and gazelle.

"Good luck," Percy told the animals. They burst out of their prisons and ran off together down the street.

Tourists milled around, taking pictures and minding their own business, that is, until they caught sight of the zoo animals. Some screamed, but most just backed off and snapped pictures, most likely assuming it was some kind of stunt by one of the casinos.

"Will they be okay?" Percy asked Grover, staring after the fleeing animals. "I mean, the desert and all—"

"Don't worry. I placed a satyr's sanctuary on them."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning they'll reach the wild safely. They'll find water, food, shade, whatever they need until the find a safe place to live."

"Why can't you place a blessing like that on us?" He asked.

"It only works on animals."

"So it would only affect Percy," I reasoned.

"Hey!" Percy protested.

"Kidding," I said. "Come on. Let's get out of this filthy truck."

We stumbled out into the desert heat. It was easily a hundred and ten degrees, and we must've looked like nomadic, filthy hobos, but nobody wanted to tear their attention away from the animals to look at us. Which was fine by me.

We passed the tons of casinos and hotels, pyramids, a pirate ship, and even the mini replica of the Statue of Liberty.

We ambled along aimlessly, not really sure what to do next. Get another ride? Or maybe stake out in Vegas for the rest of the day?

Eventually, we found ourselves at a dead end, standing in front of the Lotus Hotel and Casino. The entrance was a flashy neon flower with blinking petals. Nobody seemed to be entering or leaving, but the chrome doors stood open invitingly, spilling out lotus-scented air-conditioning.

The doorman smiled at us. "Hey, kids. You look tired. You want to come in and sit down?"

I looked at his lotus-print shirt and shorts suspiciously, but I was so fatigued and worn out from the truck ride and everything that'd happened, I decided it wouldn't be too bad. Would it?

Yes. It could be bad. After all, we were demigods. Bad things seemed to seek us out religiously, time and time again. It was odd if something like a Las Vegas casino turned out to be harmless if we were involved.

But it was_ so _hot, and my friends were already making their way towards the door. I quickly wighed my options. We could stay out here in the scorching heat, hungry and lost, and spend the night in an alley somewhere. Or we could go inside, cool off, maybe eat something, and develop a plan. So, putting my fears behind me, I walked inside.

"Whoa," Grover said.

The whole lobby was a kid's dream. An indoor waterslide was twisting around a glass elevator, which went up at least forty floors. A climbing wall was positioned on the one side of the building, and a bungee-jumping bridge was set right beside it. Games, like virtual reality suits with working laser guns and 3-D simulations and video games with widescreen TVs, were sprinkled out everywhere in the lobby. Snack bars with attending waitresses were abundant, serving everything from burgers and fries to crème brulee. It was amazing, to say the least. All thoughts of preparing a plan melted right out of my mind.

"Hey!" A Hawaiian-print-clad bellhop called out to us. "Welcome to the Lotus Casino. Here's your room key."

"Um, but…" Percy stammered.

"No, no," The bellhop said, laughing. "The bill's taken care of. No extra charges, no tips. Just go on the top floor, room 4001. If you need anything, like extra bubbles for the hot tub, or skeet targets for the shooting range, or whatever, just call the front desk. Here are your LotusCash cards. They work in the restaurants and on all the games and rides."

He handed us each a green plastic card.

I knew I should've been on guard about this person's generosity, that this must be too good to be true, but I was staring intently at a trivia booth across the lobby. I was itching to use it.

"How much is on here?" Percy asked; he was starting to get suspicious.

The bellhop knit his eyebrows together. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when does it run out of cash?"

I thought it was a reasonable question, but the bellhop just laughed. "Oh, you're making a joke. Hey, that's cool. Enjoy your stay."

After the smiling bellhop left us, we traveled upstairs via the glass elevator and checked out our room. It was a suite with three separate bedrooms and a bar stocked with candy, sodas, and chips. The water beds were topped with down pillows and feathery comforters, and big-screen televisions were in each room. The balcony had a hot tub and a skeet-shooting machine with a shotgun.

I gazed out over the Vegas skyline and the desert, the sun spilling out hot afternoon light over the city.

"Oh, goodness," I breathed. "This is place is…"

"Sweet," Grover supplied. "Absolutely sweet."

I explored the suite, and found a bathroom. I took a shower, feeling slightly relieved as the previous days of travel and grime and stress washed off. I raided the closets, which held clothes that, coincidentally, were my size. I frowned, thinking that was a little odd. But I quickly shrugged it off and slipped on some jeans and a casual white, flowing shirt, trashing my dirty clothes.

I ventured out into main room, and found Grover perched on a chair eating chips. I sunk into a plush couch and switched the TV on. Out of habit, I flipped to National Geographic, and found an interesting feature running about the Appalachian Mountains.

Percy came out later, his black hair shining from the shower. He looked revitalized and fresh. He glanced at the television curiously.

"All those channels," He told me. "And you turn on National Geographic. Are you insane?"

"It's interesting," I defended.

"I feel good," Grover said, the chips crunching in his mouth. "I love this place."

Absentmindedly, wings sprouted out of his shoes and lifted him gently a foot off the ground, and then set him back down again.

"So what now?" I asked. "Sleep?"

Percy and Grover exchanged a look and a mischievous grin. They both held up the LotusCash cards.

"Play time," Percy said.

A grin spread out on my face, and we were out the door before anyone could say anything else.

I couldn't remember a time I had so much fun. I'd been stuck at Camp Half-Blood since I was seven, and the most fun we ever get there is Capture the Flag and the occasional prank, and even when I lived with my father, he would never lift his nose out of a book or project to actually spend time with me. A five-star Vegas hotel was a taboo in my house and at camp, an exclusive dream that we knew would never happen.

Yet, here I was. And I planned to make the most of it.

I tried the bungee-jumping bridge, but the exhilaration was almost too much. So, after that, I traveled the lobby, floating from one trivia game to another. But then I found this huge 3-D sim game where I could fabricate my own city, and I was in heaven. Holographic buildings would actually rise from the display board, and I could overlook everything: the supports, the aerodynamic ability, everything.

I was so lost in building my own metropolis that I soon lost track of time. I was absorbed in the game, absolutely swallowed up in its magnificence. All I could see was the game, and that was fine by me.

And then a thought came to me. What time was it? How long had I been building my city? Certainly just a couple hours, at most. No more than that, right? Of course. No more than a couple hours…

I lost track of time again, and that thought soon floated to the back of my mind.

Just as I was creating my twenty-seventh building, a skyscraper that reached higher than the Empire State Building, I heard a vague voice. It sounded familiar.

I ignored it, and went back to building my city.

Someone shook my shoulder. The voice was clearer now, saying, "Annabeth?"

It was Percy. I decided I better answer, but I was almost done with the skyscraper…

Finally, I just looked up, utterly annoyed by Percy's carelessness. "What?"

"We need to leave."

Was he crazy? "Leave? What are you talking about? I've just got the towers—"

"This place is a trap."

My building caught the corner of my eye; the seventh floor needed more windows. I pushed some buttons and ignored Percy's babbling. Trap? Impossible.

He shook me again. "What?"

"Listen. The Underworld. Our quest!"

The words rang a faint bell, but I guessed they weren't of much importance. "Oh, come on, Percy. Just a few more minutes."

"Annabeth, there are people here from 1977. Kids who never aged. You check in, you stay forever."

That didn't seem so bad to me. "So? Can you imagine a better place?"

He grabbed my wrist and pulled me from my city.

"Hey!" I shrieked, hitting his arm in a vain effort for him to let me go.

He steadied me and forced me to look into his eyes. "Spiders. Large, hairy spiders."

Suddenly, my vision was filled with the creepy things. Spiders as big as my skyscraper, slowly skittering towards me. I blinked, trying to rid myself of the image. When I opened my eyes, everything seemed so _clear_. Questions arose in my head like bubbles in our balcony hot tub: What were we doing here? How long have we been here? Why are we_ still_ here?

"Oh my gods," I said. "How long have we—"

"I don't know, but we have to find Grover."

After some searching, we found playing Virtual Deer Hunter, a reality shooting game where the deer shoot at the rednecks. I could see why Grover would like it.

"Grover!" We both shouted at him.

Still glued to the screen, he said, "Die, human! Die, silly polluting nasty person!"

"Grover!"

He turned the plastic gun on Percy, clicking the trigger as if he was a virtual image, too.

He looked at me, and I caught his message. Together, we took Grover by the arms and dragged him away. His flying shoes sprang to life and started to drag him in the opposite direction as he cried out, "No! I just got to a new level! No!"

The bellhop rushed up to us. "Well, now, are you ready for your platinum cards?"

"We're leaving," Percy told him.

"Such a shame." The bellhop said, and from the disappointment in his eyes, I knew he meant it. But we had to get out of this place quick. "We just added a whole new floor of games for platinum card members."

He held out three silver cards, and Grover started to reach for one, but I quickly swiped his hand away. "No thanks," I said sourly.

We walked toward the door, and the closer we got, the more I wanted to go back. The smell of food wafted from the bars, and the luring sound of the millions of games rang in my ear, tempting me, alluring me…

Then we surged through the glass doors of the casino and ran down the sidewalk. It was such a relief to escape that place, but something felt wrong. Storms played out across the Nevada sky, and heat lightning flashed out over the desert.

I followed as Percy ran to the nearest newspaper stand, and read the date over his shoulder. Thank gods, it was still the same year. But then my eyes rested on the day: June twentieth.

My heart dropped to my stomach. We'd been trapped inside the Lotus Casino for five days. Tomorrow was the summer solstice. Which meant we had only one day to complete our quest.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. **

* * *

I sprang into action.

I flagged down a passing taxi, and loaded up Grover and Percy. I slid in last.

"Los Angeles, please." I told the cigar-chewing cabbie. He sized us up skeptically.

"That's three hundred miles. For that, you gotta pay up front."

"Do you take casino debit cards?"

He shrugged. "Some of 'em. Same as credit cards. I gotta swipe 'em through first."

I handed him my green LotusCash card. He looked at it suspiciously.

"Swipe it," I invited.

He did, and the meter machine started rattling. The lights flashed like some disco performance, and an infinity symbol popped up next to the dollar sign.

The cigar tumbled out of the driver's mouth as he looked at the screen disbelievingly. He looked back at us, his eyes wide. "Where to in Los Angeles… uh, Your Highness?"

"The Santa Monica Pier," I said, sitting up a little straighter to own up to my 'Highness' title. "Get us there fast, and you can keep the change."

That got him moving. The speedometer never dipped below ninety five the whole way through the Mojave Desert.

Still, being on the road gave us plenty of time to talk. Percy had a dream, a new that seemed for scarier than his last.

"The dream started out in a dark cavern," Percy began. "Obviously somewhere in the Underworld. I was in front of this pit, and this evil voice was pouring out of it. It was talking about deception, and how I was ignorant about something. The voice seemed to be talking to an invisible person, and something about his voice was familiar, but I can't remember what. Anyway, the voice called him a servant, and they were discussing about how the servant had failed to bring him something. They were also talking about how Zeus was getting angrier, and how Poseidon had played his most desperate card. It said, _As soon as both items are in my hands… _but then it sensed me and my dream changed.

"I then stood in throne room with black marble walls, and the throne was made from fused-together bones. I saw my… my mother at the foot of the throne, frozen in a glimmer of golden light." He stopped for a moment, overcome with sadness at the mention of his mother. Then he continued. "I tried to step forward, but I was stuck. I reached out, but my arms were slowly turning into bones. Skeletons crowded around me, draping me in silk robes and placing a poisoned wreath on my head… The—the voice said,_ Hail, the conquering hero! _And then the dream ended." He finished. "But… the servant called the voice something… not 'my lord', but something else…"

"The Silent One?" I suggested. "The Rich One? Both of those are nicknames for Hades."

"Maybe…" He said, but I could tell I hadn't hit bingo.

"The throne room sounds like Hades," Grover said. "That's the way it's usually described."

He shook his head. "Something's wrong. The throne room wasn't the main part of the dream. And that voice from the pit… I don't know. It just didn't feel like a god's voice."

Not a god? The only other immortal series of immortal figures were the Titans, and they were defeated years ago…

My eyes widened. The pit… could that be Tartarus?_ Had_ they been defeated?

_Yes,_ I told myself sternly._ Yes, they have been defeated. They are trapped and will never get out again._

"What?" Percy asked, seeing my wide eyes.

"Oh… nothing. I was just—No, it _has _to be Hades. Maybe he sent this thief, this invisible person, to get the master bolt, and something went wrong—"

"Like what?"

"I—I don't know," I admitted. "But if he stole Zeus's symbol of power from Olympus, and the gods were hunting him, I mean, a lot of things could go wrong. So this thief had to hide the bolt, or he lost it somehow. Anyway, he failed to bring it to Hades. That's what the voice said in your dream, right? The guy failed. That would explain what the Furies were searching for when they came after us on the bus. Maybe they thought we had retrieved the bolt."

Most of that was for me. I was still trying to convince myself that the Titans were not involved in this quest, but I wasn't doing a great job. The possibility of the Titans messing with the gods and stealing their sources of power was too big of a burden. What if another war was on the horizon?

"But if I'd already retrieved the bolt," Percy said. "Why would I be traveling to the Underworld?"

"To threaten Hades," Grover suggested. "To bribe or blackmail him into getting your mom back."

Percy whistled. "You have evil thoughts for a goat."

"Why, thank you."

"But the thing in the pit said it was waiting for_ two_ items. If the master bolt is one, what's the other?"

Grover shook his head, not having an answer.

Percy's mind was reeling; that I could see. I knew what his next question was, I silently willed him not to ask it. The idea was too much, even for me.

Of course, he asked it anyway. "You have an idea what might be in that pit, don't you? I mean, if it isn't Hades?"

"Percy… let's not talk about it. Because if it isn't Hades… No. It has to be Hades."

I turned to the window, ending that conversation. Barren wasteland whizzed by at ninety five miles an hour. We passed a sign that said: CALIFORNIA STATE LINE: 12 MILES. I tried not to think about what would be waiting for us once we reached California, because if it wasn't Hades, then our whole quest would be doomed. If Hades didn't have the master bolt, then it was over. Done with; gone. Another great opportunity lost in the wind. But if it wasn't Hades in Percy's dream, then the only possibility was a Titan, and _that _I didn't want to think about. But one thing was sure: our real enemy, god or Titan, was in the Underworld.

"The answer is in the Underworld," I assured Percy. "You saw spirits of the dead, Percy. There's only one place that could be. We're doing the right thing."

I tried to boost our morale, mostly my own, by thinking up strategic plans of how to get in the Underworld. That always cheers me up, but I could tell neither of their hearts were into it.

So, the cab sped west, farther from my home and deeper into the black abyss of our quest.

After several agonizing hours in the taxi, just waiting and hoping, we pulled up to the beach in Santa Monica just as the sun was setting. I took a good look around; it looked nothing like camp, or even New York, for that matter. An acrid smell of trash and rotten food and who-knows-what-else filled my nose. The Pier was lined with bustling carnival rides, carefree tourists, sculpted surfers, and sleeping homeless guys lounging in the sand dunes.

The three of us walked to the edge of the surf. The sea water rushed over the sand, the tide going in and out.

"What now?" I asked. We were here, at Santa Monica, like the water spirit had said. But what were we going to do now that we were here?

I looked over at Percy; he was gazing intently at the ocean, like he was contemplating something. I wondered what it was.

In response to my question, he stepped into the surf.

"Percy?" I called after him. "What are you doing?"

He ignored me and kept walking until he was submerged up to his waist. I started to panic. There were chemicals in those waters, unsafe impurities…

"You know how polluted that water is?" I called after him, hoping he would see sense. "There're all kinds of toxic—"

I cut off short when his head went under.

I sighed, a little irritated, and muttered, "That boy will never listen to me."

I plopped down on the sand, figuring all we could do was wait. Grover joined me. I stared at the spot Percy went under, willing him to reappear. He didn't. Minutes passed, and I figured he was either dead or possessed the ability to breath underwater. It was more comforting to believe the latter.

The waves curled over the waters, the crests foaming with white. The lull of the ocean was calming, but hardly distracting. I tapped my fingers against the hard-packed sand, absently twirling circles and digging in my fingernails. Whatever was happening to Percy, it must be important. Time was draining fast, and I wondered what he was doing in the depths of the chilly waters. I didn't have to wonder long, though, because just as the sunset sky was darkening into a starry evening, Percy emerged from the sea. I stood up. His clothes were dry—which I thought was peculiar, but he_ was _a son of the Sea God, after all—and he looked like a regular tourist. His right fist was clenched tightly, and at first I thought he was angry. But as he got closer, I saw that his hand wasn't rigid in anger, but instead took up the loose muscle composition that suggested he was holding something. Before I could ask what was in his hand, he told us what had happened under the sea.

Apparently, Percy had run into the same Nereid he met in the Mississippi River. She'd spoken to him about our quest, and how it was going to be difficult, that Hades wasn't going to let us go easily. I'd scoffed at this part—_tell me something I don't know. _She'd also told him that the oracles have foretold Percy a "great and terrible future," and a chill went up my arms at the thought of the prophecy she was surely talking about.

He unclenched his hand, revealing three iridescent pearls, claiming they were a gift from the Nereid.

I grimaced. "No gift comes without a price."

"They were free." Percy argued.

"No," I shook my head. "'There is no such thing as a free lunch.' That's an ancient Greek saying that translated pretty well into American. There will be a price. You wait."

He frowned, not liking that promise.

We turned our backs on the sea and walked a couple blocks, until we found a bus that would take us into West Hollywood. With the help of some spare change from Ares's backpack, which had magically appeared on Percy's shoulder after our little stint at the Lotus Casino even though I was sure he threw it away, we managed to buy tickets and boarded the bus.

Percy showed the driver an address slip he'd gotten from Aunty Em's, the one with the address for the Underworld's entrance location, which was supposedly called DOA Recording Studios. But the driver just sympathetically shook his head, signifying that he had never heard of the place.

"You remind of someone I saw on TV," He told Percy before we could take our seats. "You a child actor or something?"

"Uh… I'm a stunt double… for a lot of child actors." Percy stammered.

"Oh! That explains it."

We thanked him and quickly got off at the next stop.

We wandered around L.A. for miles, searching hopelessly for DOA. Nobody seemed to have a clue as to where it was, and it didn't appear in the phonebook.

Since we were known fugitives, we had to keep an eye out for cop cars, twice ducking in alleyways to avoid being seen.

As we were walking down the street, Percy suddenly froze in front of an appliance store window. He stared at the television screen with such resentment and anger that he looked about ready to punch the glass.

I leaned over and caught sight of a crude man being interviewed by a regal- looking, white-haired woman. Words at the bottom identified her as Barbara Walters. I'd never heard of her, what with having no media access whatsoever at camp, but the way she held her posture suggested that she was important. The man she was talking to was sitting at a card table strewn with poker chips and cards and half-empty beer bottles, obviously in the middle of playing a poker game. A mildly pretty blonde woman sat next to him, patting his hand.

By the way Percy was shooting daggers at the screen, I guessed this man was his stepfather.

"Honest, Ms. Walters," Percy's stepfather was saying, an obviously fake tear rolling down his cheek. "If it weren't for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I'd be a wreck. My stepson took everything I cared about. My wife… my Camaro… I—I'm sorry. I have trouble talking about it."

"There you have it, America." The woman, Barbara Walters, said to the camera. "A man torn apart. An adolescent boy with serious issues. Let me show you, again, the last known photo of the troubled young fugitive, taken a week ago in Denver."

The screen cut to a grainy picture of Percy, Grover, and me standing outside the Colorado diner, talking to Ares.

"Who are the other children in this photo?" She asked, too dramatically for my tastes. "Who is the man with them? Is Percy Jackson a delinquent, a terrorist, or perhaps a brainwashed victim of a frightening new cult? When we come back, we chat with a leading child psychologist. Stay tuned, America."

The light in Percy's eyes reminded me of Ares's: dangerously bright, like he was going to explode any minute. Now I could see why he hated this man so much; he was ignorant and thick, feeding off of the country's sympathy like the bottom feeder he was.

"C'mon," Grover said, hauling him away before he could smash down the window.

Soon, the sun disappeared and dark enveloped the city. Suspicious-looking figures crept around, eyeing us, three kids totally unfamiliar with the surroundings and no doubt easy prey. But I didn't pay them much attention. After all, the summer solstice was tomorrow, and we had yet to find the Underworld entrance.

The streets were filled with gang members, bums, and street hawkers. They looked us skeptically, and their gazes made me uncomfortable.

I increased my pace just as we were passing an alleyway entrance. Just then, a voice called out, "Hey, you."

Like the idiot he was, Percy stopped. Unable to go anywhere without him, I stopped with him. Within seconds, we were surrounded by white kids clad in expensive clothes, cruel expressions plastered on their faces. They were less than intimidating, but Percy uncapped his sword.

The kids backed off at the sight of the gleaming blade, but the moronic leader didn't cower like his fellow members. He kept coming at Percy with a switchblade. I have to say, it was a good thing Percy had pulled out the sword, however and impulsive and dangerous. The kids were hesitant, even the leader, and it was probably keeping us unharmed.

That is, until Percy swung.

Of course, the celestial bronze blade passed harmlessly through the kid's one-hundred-percent-mortal chest, but he let out a yelp of shock. He looked down. "What the…"

"Run!" Percy shouted at us. I didn't have to be told twice.

We took off down the street, not sure where we going. Our only goal was to get away from the gang that was certainly going to turn irate and chase after us. We turned a sharp corner, hoping to lose them.

I saw a store that looked open, the only one on the block that was still ablaze with light. The neon side above the doorway was unreadable with my ADHD, but Grover translated it as Crusty's Water Bed Palace.

I didn't hesitate to burst through the doors. We ducked behind a water bed and watched as the gang kids ran past outside.

"I think we lost them," Grover panted. I leaned against the water bed and breathed heavily.

"Lost who?" A voice behind us boomed.

We all jumped.

I turned around to see a huge man—at least seven feet tall—dressed in a yellow, seventies-era suit that was absolutely horrendous. His silk paisley shirt was unbuttoned halfway, showing off his hairless chest. The lapels on his jacket were enormous, and numerous tacky silver chains hung around his neck.

His head was bald and shiny, and his skin was leathery and gray; reptilian. His smile was cold and bitter.

"I'm Crusty," He said, revealing a yellow smile that matched his suit.

"Sorry to barge in," Percy told him. "We were just, um, browsing."

"You mean hiding from those no-good kids," He grumbled. "They hang around every night. I get a lot of people in here, thanks to them. Say, you want to look at a water bed?"

I was just about to refuse when he clamped his hand down on Percy's shoulder, leading him away from us and deeper into the showroom. I had no choice but to follow.

The show room was filled with water beds of all different sizes and patterns. The beds all featured unique woods, distinctive designs, massive and moderate sizes.

"This is my most popular model." Crusty spread his hands smugly over a vibrating bed laden with oily black silken sheets and lava lamps molded into the headboard.

"Million-hand massage," Crusty told us. "Go on, try it out. Shoot, take a nap. I don't care. No business today, anyway."

"Um," Percy started skeptically. "I don't think…"

"Million-hand massage!" Grover cried, and dove onto the jiggling bed. "Oh, you guys! This is cool!"

"Hmm," Crusty said as he stroked his leathery chin, studying Grover. "Almost, almost."

"Almost what?" Percy asked.

I was becoming wary of this man. He didn't seem… well, normal.

He turned to me. "Do you me a favor and try this one over here, honey. Might fit."

Fit what? "But what—" I started to protest, but he patted me on the shoulder and led me to a water bad identified as the Safari Deluxe model. Teakwood lions were carved into the frame, and a leopard-patterned comforter covered the mattress. I protested, getting a bad feeling from the bed, but Crusty pushed me down. I landed on the mattress with a _thunk._

"Hey!" I protested.

Before I could get up, Crusty snapped his fingers and shouted,_ "Ergo!"_

Ropes sprang from the sides, binding me to the mattress.

I vaguely heard Grover sputter in indignation, his voice shaking from the massage, "N-not c-c-cool! N-not c-cool a-at all!" So I assumed Crusty had tied him down, too.

The coarse fibers of the rope scratched my skin as I struggled against them. Who was this Crusty person? He wasn't mortal, that I was sure of.

"Almost, darn it." I heard him say. _Almost what? _I struggled harder.

I lifted my head in time to see Percy step away from Crusty in horror, but the giant's hand shot out and fastened around his neck. "Whoa, kid. Don't worry. We'll find you one in a sec."

"Let my friends go."

"Oh, sure I will. But I got to make them fit, first."

"What do you mean?"

_Who cares?_ I thought angrily. The ropes were cutting into my skin now, steadily getting tighter. I wished Percy would stop asking questions and get us out of here!

"All the beds are exactly six feet, see? Your friends are too short. Got to make them fit."

I kept struggling uselessly against the rough binds that tethered me to the bed, but to no avail.

"Can't stand imperfect measurements," Crusty muttered. _"Ergo!"_

A new set of ropes jumped up, bounding my ankles, and then my armpits. It was quite uncomfortable to say the least, and that was before the pulling started.

The ropes tightened until they were practically digging into my skin, pulling me both up and down.

"Don't worry," Crusty said. "These are stretching jobs. Maybe add three extra inches on their spines. They might even live. Now why don't we find a bed you like, huh?"

"Percy!" Grover yelled from beside me.

Percy was silent for a few moments. "You're name's not Crusty, is it?" He said finally. Where was he going with this?

"Legally, it's Procrustes." He admitted.

So,_ that's where Percy was going with this. _I remembered: Procrustes had tried to kill Theseus with excess generosity and kindness on his way to Athens. It made more sense now, but that knowledge did nothing more then tell me who was stretching me to death.

"The Stretcher," Percy recalled, recognition filling his voice.

"Yeah," The salesmen said. "But who can pronounce _Procrustes?_ Bad for business. Now, 'Crusty,' anybody can say that."

"You're right. It's got a good ring to it."

"You think so?" Procrustes said.

"Oh, absolutely," Percy replied. "And the workmanship on these beds? Fabulous!"

I chewed on my tongue to distract myself from the pain that was seeping into my back. Couldn't Percy save the small talk for later?

"I tell my customers that." Procrustes said, the grin audible in his voice. "Every time. Nobody bothers to look at the workmanship. How many built-in lava lamp headboards have you seen?"

"Not too many."

"That's right!"

"Percy!" I yelled. I couldn't handle the intensifying pain anymore. "What are you doing?" I didn't have a clue as to what he was thinking. I thought, as much as I could think with two ropes basically pulling me apart, that whatever approach Percy was using—if he was using an approach at all—was going to get me killed.

"Don't mind her," Percy told the salesman. "She's impossible."

Whatever respect I had for Percy was lost in that moment. It was clear he wasn't going to help us in time, if he was even going to help us at all.

The giant laughed. "All my customers are. Never six feet exactly. So inconsiderate. And then they complain about the fitting."

"What do you do if they're longer than six feet?"

"Oh, that happens all the time. It's a simple fix."

I heard footsteps and some shuffling around, and then Procrustes said, "I just center the subject as best I can and lop off whatever hangs over on either end."

"Ah," Percy said, his voice strained. "Sensible."

"I'm so glad to come across an intelligent customer!"

The ropes seemed to be getting stronger. I felt sickly and pale. I heard some strange gurgling sound coming from Grover, and I knew he was having the same amount of fun with this as I was.

"So, Crusty…" Percy said. "Does this one really have dynamic stabilizers to stop wave motion?"

"Absolutely. Try it out."

"Yeah, maybe I will. But would it work even for a big guy like you? No waves at all?"

"Guaranteed."

"No way."

"Way."

"Show me."

I heard a quiet sloshing as, I assumed, Crusty sat down. "No waves. See?"

Percy snapped his fingers. _"Ergo."_

A faint smile came across my lips as I realized what he was doing. It was quite brilliant, really. But the smile disappeared just as quickly as it appeared when the rope started pulling tighter.

"Hey!" I heard Procrustes yell.

"Center him just right," Percy muttered. I heard sounds of struggle as Procrustes was prepared to be killed, or at least that's what I hoped.

"No!" He said in a frantic voice. "Wait! This is just a demo."

I heard a slight scraping as Percy uncapped Riptide. "A few simple adjustments…"

"You drive a hard bargain," Procrustes tried to negotiate. "I'll give you thirty percent off selected floor models!"

"I think I'll start with the top."

"No money down! No interest for six months!"

I heard the unmistakable whoosh of air as Percy swung his sword. Silence ensued.

He finally cut the ropes off my bed. The relief was immediate. Groaning, I got to my feet, wincing and cursing Percy.

"You look taller," Percy remarked.

"Very funny," I said. "Be faster next time."

He looked at the bulletin board over Crusty's desk. It was crowded with tons of mythological stuff—Hermes Delivery Service, a Compendium of L.A. Area Monsters—and plucked off a bright orange flier for DOA Recording Studios. Talk about coincidence.

"Come on," He told us.

"Give us a minute," Grover complained. "We were just stretched to death!"

"Then you're ready for the Underworld," Percy said. "It's only a block from here."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. **

* * *

Ten minutes later we stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, gazing up at the golden letters engraved into midnight-black marble: DOA Recording Studios.

Stenciled on the glass doors underneath was the ominous message: NO SOLICITERS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

That was reassuring.

Even though it was nearing midnight, the lobby was in full bustle. The lights were still a blaze, and people were milling around; waiting. Behind the security desk sat a robust man with sunglasses and an earpiece.

Percy turned to us. "Okay. Remember the plan."

The plan. The plan he told us about on the way here. The plan that might get us into the Underworld. The plan that might not work.

"The plan," Grover gulped beside me. "Yeah. I love the plan."

"What happens if the plan doesn't work?" I asked. It was, after all, a pretty sketchy plan.

"Don't think negative."

"Right," I said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative." It came out a little more acidic than I'd intended.

Percy took out the pearls and looked at them skeptically, staring intently into the creamy spheres. I immediately felt bad; after all, his mom was in danger, and the last thing he needed was a friend with a pessimistic attitude.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

I nudged Grover.

"Oh, right!" He chimed. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

He looked at us, gratefulness in his eyes. I didn't know what he was thinking, but I knew we'd done the right thing.

He slipped the pearls back into his pocket, a new determinedness blazing in his eyes. "Let's go whup some Underworld butt."

Together, we walked inside the lobby of the Underworld.

Classical music played softly in the background, spilling out of hidden speakers. The carpet and the walls were a depressing gray color. Pencil cactuses grew leisurely in the corners, curled and bone-dry like skeleton hands. The furniture was sleek black leather, and there wasn't an empty seat to be seen. People sat on the couches, ambled around in the lobby, stared out windows, waited for the elevator. It was silent and there was little movement, as everybody seemed to just be waiting for something. And something was wrong with the people. Whenever I tried to focus on one person, the image would fade out until they were transparent and I could see straight through them. But when I peeked out of the corner of my eye, I could see them clearly. I figured they were ghosts.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, forcing us to look up at him when we arrived.

He looked tall and graceful, with rich chocolate-colored skin and bleached blond hair shaved in a crew cut. He wore chic tortoiseshell glasses and a silk Italian suit that was the same golden color of his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag. I didn't bother reading it, as the letters were too small for my ADHD. Percy leaned forward, though, and then looked up at the man in surprise.

"Your name is Chiron?" He asked.

In one smooth movement, the man leaned across the desk and smiled coldly down at us.

"What a precious young lad." He said in a strange accent, one that sounded British, but not quite. There was an underlying echo to his words, almost like he'd learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, so I look like a centaur?"

"N-no." Percy sputtered.

"Sir," He added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy added.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-_A-_R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: _Mr. Charon."_

"Mr. Charon." Percy said.

"Well done." He sat back, having done his duty. "I_ hate_ being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy stayed quiet, the question rendering him silent. He looked at me for support. So much for following the plan.

"We want to go to the Underworld." I said calmly.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked. Did people ask to go to the Underworld often? If so, why was our request refreshing?

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

Die? Did he think we were dead? I couldn't think of anything to say.

Grover spoke up instead. "Oh. Um… drowned… in the bathtub."

"All three of you?"

We nodded.

"Big bathtub," Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children… alas, they never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

Too bad we didn't have a few centuries.

"Oh but we have coins." Percy said. He set three drachmas on the counter from a stash I supposed he'd gotten from Crusty's.

"Well, now…" Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in…"

I stood on my toes as his fingers hovered greedily over the coins. We were so close…

Then Charon looked at Percy. His stare was so cold it radiated cruelness. "Here now," He said in his peculiar accent. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy responded. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and sniffed the air. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," I insisted.

A deep growling sound came from somewhere Charon's throat.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing along the length of the floor, their expressions agitated. Some lighted cigarettes, some ran their hands through their hair, others checked their watches as if awaiting something important.

"Leave while you can," Charon warned. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

His bony fingers reached for the coins, but Percy snatched them up before he could get his greedy hands around them.

"No service, no tip." Percy said curtly.

Charon growled again, this time emanating a sound much more blood-chilling than the last. The spirits became more restless, and began to pound on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," Percy sighed. "We had more to offer."

He held up a bag. I watched Charon's face as the coins tauntingly jingled inside. Percy reached into the bag and grabbed a fistful of coins, letting the drachmas spill through his fingers. The gold clinked mockingly as they fell back inside the bag.

Charon's growl transformed into something softer, almost like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh… just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," Percy responded. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

That seemed to get Charon on our side, more or less. "Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," Percy agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, he stacked another gold coin on the counter in front of Charon, teasing him.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

Percy stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

Charon sighed in a way that told me we had succeeded. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood up, scooped up the coins, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, their hands grabbing at us with about the same intensity as a soft breeze, their raspy voices whispering like the wind. Charon shoved them out of way and mumbled, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already full of souls who were each holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who had tried to get on with us and pushed them back in the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," He announced to the roomful of mourning souls. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

The doors slid close. He inserted a key card into a slot in the elevator panel, and we began to descend.

I looked around uneasily at the spirits that surrounded me. Their faces were drawn and so, so sad. They looked like everything they had in their being was forever crushed, which I guess is true, since they're dead and all.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" I asked.

"Nothing," Charon answered.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," I swallowed dryly. "That's… fair."

Charon raised his eyebrow at me. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

My head started to spin, and dizziness took over. I realized we weren't going down anymore, but rather forward. The air turned misty. The spirits started to change shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes.

The elevator floor started swaying.

Before my eyes, Charon's elite Italian suit melted off his body, only to be replaced with a midnight-black robe of his own. His glasses had disappeared, and his eye sockets were empty. They reminded me of Ares's eyes, except Charon's were filled with nothing but darkness.

"Well?" He said, looking at Percy. I realized he must be staring, too.

"Nothing," Percy said quietly.

Charon's flesh began to disappear. No, not disappear. It was becoming transparent. I could see straight to his skull.

The floor continued to sway.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

I agreed. I closed my eyes to regain control over my stomach. When I opened my eyes again, the elevator was no longer an elevator. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river. I recognized it immediately. The water was swirling with bones, dead fish, plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas, corsages—you name it, it was there.

"The River Styx," I murmured, watching as a wedding ring floated past. I wondered briefly how it didn't sink. "It's so…"

"Polluted," Charon finished. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the river slowly and mournfully. Above us, almost lost in the obscurity, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glistened with a greenish light that reminded me of poison.

Suddenly, a feeling of claustrophobia took over. Panic welled up in my throat. I looked around at the spirits. They looked back with icy, dead eyes. A drop of cold sweat trickled down my cheek in the musty heat of the Underworld.

Being surrounded by the souls, I felt so alone and scared. They were all here because they were dead. They were here because they had nothing to lose. Me? I didn't have either of those luxuries.

Without a second thought, I blindly grabbed hold of Percy's hand. I need reassurance that I wasn't the only living soul on this boat. The heat of his hand calmed me down, knowing that my heart wasn't the only one still beating.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yard, stopping at the base of a black stone wall. An ominous howl came from somewhere off in the gloom, echoing off the stones.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said, flashing us a skeletal smile. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The boat slid onto the black sand and anchored, and the dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand came off first, followed by an old couple hobbling along arm in arm. The last spirit to get off was a boy that looked no older than me, scuffling along soundlessly.

"I'd wish you luck, mate," Charon said. "But there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He dropped the coins into his pouch and took up his pole. As he floated away on the murky river, he trilled something cheerless and gloomy.

I looked ahead at the spirits walking up a well-worn path to the wall.

_Here goes nothing, _I thought as I stepped forward to follow them.

The sand kept shifting under my feet as we trekked closer and closer to the wall. Grover, Percy and I didn't talk much. We just studied the landscape—if you consider black sand a landscape—and awaited what may possibly be our doom.

Finally, we arrived at the gates, but it wasn't anything like in the myths. Instead of an ominous black gateway, like I was expecting, it was more like a security gate.

There were three separate entrances under once black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance featured a metal detector and a mounted security camera. Beyond that were tollbooths manned by black-robed specters, much like Charon.

The howling was louder now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. I assumed it was Cerberus, Hades's three-headed guard dog, but there was no way to tell.

The dead accrued in three lines, two marked with ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH, which seemed to be moving swiftly. The other two were going painfully slow.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked me.

"The fast line goes straight to Asphodel Fields," I said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

"Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever." Grover said, they first time he'd spoken since we descended into the Underworld. I wondered how he was doing, being a satyr and everything. After all, he hated the underground. But he seemed to be doing fine, on the outside at least.

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

I looked at where Grover was pointing. A couple of black-robed figures had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him. The security ghouls were giving him 'special treatment'—no doubt about to cart him off to Hades for personal judgement.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy replied.

I had no idea what they were talking about. I wondered what the man— a _priest_, of all people— had done in life that demanded eternal punishment, but I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"What're they doing to him?" Percy asked.

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

"But if he's a preacher," Percy inquired. "And he believes in a different hell…"

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We continued inching closer and closer to the gates. The howling was ridiculously loud now, shaking the ground beneath my feet. But I still couldn't see the animal that was making the sounds.

Then, about fifty feet in front of us, the green haze flickered. Standing just where the path split into three lanes was a massive shadowy monster.

It had passed my notice before because, much like the spirits of the dead, it was half transparent. Until it moved, it blended in with whatever it was standing in front of. Only its eyes and teeth appeared solid.

Cerberus. I stared at the huge, growling canine. Even in the distance, I could smell the musty scent of its breath. Because of its three heads, the smell was intensified greatly. The animal was immense; easily two times the size of a woolly mammoth.

Beside me, his mouth gaping open as much as mine was, Percy made a bright comment: "He's a Rottweiler."

The dead walked up to Cerberus fearlessly—either parting around him or walking straight through his front paws and under his belly, not having to crouch at all.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think…" I said, my mouth becoming strangely dry as the possibility dawned on me. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

Cerberus's middle head craned towards us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," Percy said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, slight tremors rocking throughout his body. "Because we have a plan."

The plan. The plan seemed pretty petty now that we were facing the real thing. I didn't have much faith in it anymore.

"Right," I said. My throat had all but closed up with fear, and my voice came out small and weak. "A plan."

Together, we moved towards the monster. Cerberus didn't like that. He snarled at us, and then barked so loud my teeth rattled. My ears were clogged with a loud ringing sound that wouldn't go away for several seconds.

When I regained my hearing, I heard Percy ask, "Can you understand it?"

"Oh yeah," Grover replied. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter that translates, exactly."

Percy removed a big stick from his backpack—a bedpost he'd broken off of a waterbed model back in aboveground L.A. The thought made me feel more claustrophobic than I already was.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up to the monster. "I bet they don't play with you much."

In response, Cerberus growled.

"Good boy," Percy said weakly.

He waved the stick. The middle head followed the movement, but the other two heads icily stared at Percy, completely ignoring the distraction.

"Fetch!" Percy threw the stick into the gloom. It landed with a thump. Cerberus didn't even flinch, instead continuing to stare menacingly at Percy.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was making a new deep growl. It seemed even more vindictive than his last.

"Um, Percy?" Grover said uneasily.

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that… well… he's hungry."

Suddenly I got an idea. It was crazy, but I did have some experience with dogs. I owned a Doberman when I still lived with my dad, and I'd taken him to obedience school when he couldn't behave.

"Wait!" I said. I stared rifling through my Waterland pack, looking for an acceptable toy. There had to be something…

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

At the bottom of the bag, I caught sight of a red rubber ball that I'd blindly thrown into the pack back in the Waterland gift shop. I thanked the gods above—_way _above—that it had made its way into my bag.

I raised the ball up in front of me and marched up to Cerberus before I could change my mind.

I shouted at the dog, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

He looked stunned that I'd tried to communicate to him. All three of his head cocked sideways, and six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" I called again.

The dog hesitated, unsure whether or not to abide. Eventually, though, it did sit, immediately crushing the dozen spirits that had been passing beneath him. They made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like air was being let slowly out of tires.

"Good boy!" I said.

I threw the ball in his direction.

He caught it in his middle mouth. The ball was barely big enough for him to chew, but the other two heads were snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it!" I ordered.

The heads stopped fighting and turned to me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like an insignificant strip of rubber.

The sight of it brought back memories; memories of my own childhood dog, Jacyn, running after a ball in the backyard while I squealed happily on the sidelines. Much like Cerberus, he was black as midnight and a little impulsive and rash, but deep down just a big fuzzy teddy bear. I remember how he'd once caught sight of a squirrel, went a little crazy trying to chase it, and tore up his favorite rubber ball. When I saw the pathetic remains, I'd scolded him. But I couldn't stay mad at him long, especially when he was staring at me with those puppy-dog eyes…

A loud whimper brought me out of my memories and back to the present. I quickly shook off my stupor and glanced down at the red rubber ball, now drenched with drool, that had rolled to my feet.

"Good boy." I said. I looked at his three heads, and he was no longer Cerberus, the big-bad, scary monster. No, he was now a loving giant, gentle and sweet deep down. Like Jacyn.

I swallowed my tears and saw an opportunity. I turned back to Percy and Grover. "Go now. The EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy started to protest. "But—"

"Now!" I ordered.

They inched forward warily, still not sure. I wished they'd hurry up.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" I shouted to the dog. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but obeyed.

Percy and Grover continued to inch forward. "What about you?" Percy asked as they passed by.

"I know what I'm doing, Percy," I muttered. "At least, I'm pretty sure…"

They were now underneath Cerberus. I tensed, praying that the dog wouldn't sit. Luckily, someone must've been listening, because Percy and Grover made it out without being turned into a demigod pancake.

"Good dog!" I said.

I held up the ball, and was faced with a dilemma. The ball was in tatters, and if I gave the toy back to Cerberus, he'd no doubt chew it up. And then there'd be nothing left for another trick.

I threw it anyway. Cerberus's left mouth caught it, only to be attacked by the middle head while the right head moaned in protest.

Now that the towering canine was distracted, I briskly walked under his belly and met Grover and Percy at the metal detector.

"How did you do that?" Percy asked me, a tint of amazedness in his eyes.

"Obedience school," I said, a little breathless. The reminder of my childhood days brought tears to my eyes. "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman…"

"Never mind that!" Grover said, tugging on our shirts. "Come on!"

I was poised to bolt through the line when three pitiful moans stopped me in my tracks. I froze at the sound. It was so forlorn, so devastated… my own heart was slowly breaking into two.

I slowly turned to face the dog, which had turned around and was now facing us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the ball in a million pieces at his feet, drowning in a puddle of drool.

"Good boy," I said, but my voice cracked with poignancy and uncertainty.

He cocked his head sideways, as if worried about me.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," I promised him weakly. "Would you like that?"

Cerberus whimpered, and I knew he was still waiting for the ball to be thrown.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I—I promise." I turned away quickly, not able to look at Cerberus's face, because I knew my promise was a lie. "Let's go."

We pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Behind me, Cerberus started to bark.

Quickly, we burst through the gate. More alarms started to blare. We raced into the Underworld, security ghouls running after us.

A few minutes later, I found myself squished up beside Percy in a rotting poplar trunk while security dashed by, yelling for the Furies.

After a while the yelling died down. A few minutes of deafening silence passed, and Grover murmured, "Well, Percy what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber ball over sticks?"

"No," Grover told him. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't paying attention. I silently wiped a tear from my cheek, hoping that no one saw, as I listened to the sorrowful braying that had begun in the distance. The braying of Cerberus, heartbreaking and melancholy, longing for a friend.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. **

* * *

The Field of Asphodel was the most depressing thing I've ever seen.

In a cavern the size of Rhode Island, spirits moped around with long faces and hunched backs, just waiting. Waiting for nothing. Waiting for everything. A sad, cheerless mood lingered in the air and was mirrored on every spirit's face.

Black grass carpeted the ground, trampled and worn from eons of feet stomping over it. A tepid, moist wind blew through the Fields, like the murky breath of a swamp. Black poplar trees dotted the ground, growing in small clumps.

The cavern ceiling was at least a hundred stories above us, bleak and distant. The gray rock resembled storm clouds, and I would've taken comfort in pretending that's what they were, but the stalactites ruined the façade. They were imposing and sharp, wickedly taunting us with the threat of falling. And I had reason to be worried. Scattered around the Fields were stalactites that had rained down and impaled themselves in the grass. Every now and then, I'd nervously steal an upwards glance to make sure none had come loose.

Grover, Percy, and I walked among the dead, trying to replicate their gloomy, mournful faces. And, in addition to being on guard for stalactites, I also kept an eye out for security ghouls. We seemed to be moving swiftly enough, though, because no ghouls appeared.

We came across a black-tented pavilion. A line was snaking from the entrance gates to a banner read:

JUDGMENTS FOR ELYSIUM AND ETERNAL DAMNATION

Welcome, Newly Deceased!

Out of the back of the tent emerged two much smaller lines.

To the left, spirits flanked with security ghouls were hustled down a beaten path towards a wasteland, cracked with time and misuse. Rivers of lava snaked through the grass, glowing and spitting red-hot molten rock. Hordes of minefields dotted the area, and miles of barbed wire surrounded the smoking wasteland.

The Fields of Punishment.

Even from this distance, I could make out the various, unique tortures: a man getting chased by a hellhound, another being forced to run through a cactus patch naked. The punishments ranged from getting burned at the stake to be forced to listen to Opera. I could make out cracking hill with an ant-size figure struggling to move his boulder to the top. Sisyphus. I knew him immediately. He was the one who cheated death numerous times, and was condemned to an eternity of frustration. Glad I wasn't him.

The line veering off to the right of the pavilion seemed to be headed somewhere much more cheery. It led down to a small paradise-esque valley surrounded by high marble walls—a happy, gated community. Beyond the security gate laid a magnificent neighborhood filled with houses from all architectural time periods, from the complexity and classiness of the Roman villas, to the elegance and sophistication of the Victorian mansions. Laughter drifted up from the valley, and so did the entrancing smell of barbeque.

It was obvious immediately.

This was Elysium.

In the middle of the valley was a glittering blue lake, shimmering like gold. Three islands popped up in the middle, and they seemed even better than Elysium, what with their vacation-resort-looking houses and the paradise palm trees. The Isles of the Blest, for people who chose to be reborn three times, and three times achieve Elysium. That's where I wanted to go when I died.

"That's what it's all about," I said dreamily. "That's the place for heroes."

Eventually, we had to move on. We were losing time. And, somehow, I was determined to see this particular valley again.

We left the judgment pavilion and moved deeper into the Fields of Asphodel. The light drained out slowly, and the colors of our clothes were being washed away and replaced with a gray. The crowds of spirits began to thin.

After a few miles, I heard a familiar screech in the distance. Looming on the horizon was palace made of glittering black obsidian, magnificent and dark. The palace of Hades.

"I suppose it's too late to turn back," Grover said wistfully.

"It'll be okay." Percy said.

"Maybe we should search some of the other places first," Grover suggested. "Like, Elysium, for instance…"

"Come on, goat boy." I said. We were too close to just _fail. _I grabbed Grover by his arm to drag him along.

He yelped. I rolled my eyes; he needed to stop being such a wimp. But suddenly, his shoes sprouted wings and his legs sot forward, pulling him away from me. He landed flat on his back in the black grass.

"Grover," I chided, starting to get irritated. "Stop messing around."

"But I didn't—"

He let out another yelp. The wings on his shoes were flapping crazily now, determined to continue flight. They levitated off the ground started dragging him away from us.

_"Maia!" _He yelled, but to no avail. The shoes continued to flap. "Maia, already! Nine-one-one! Help!"

After I got over the belief that he was trying to back out of our quest, and realized that he really was in trouble, I sprang into action. Percy made a grab for Grover's hand, but the only thing he got hold of was a clump of grass. Grover was picking up speed, skidding downhill like a bobsled.

We ran after him.

"Untie the shoes!" I shouted.

It was the initial thing anyone would do when you're being dragged downhill by demonic flying shoes, but I guess it's not so easy when you're propelling forward at full speed. Grover tried to do as I said, but he couldn't get close to the laces.

We kept pursuing him, trying to keep him in our sight as he soared, faster and faster, through the Fields of Asphodel.

Grover seemed to be headed straight for the Palace of Hades, and I was sure he was going to barrel straight through the gates, when the shoes took a sharp veer and he was dragged in the opposite direction.

The slope got steeper, and Grover was going faster. Percy and I had to sprint to keep up. The cavern steadily got narrower and narrower, until I realized we'd entered some type of side tunnel. The poplars and grass and disappeared, not growing anywhere. There was no sign of life, except two panting demigods trying to save their doomed satyr friend.

"Grover!" Percy's voice echoed throughout the darkness. "Hold on to something!"

"What?" He yelled back.

He was clawing frantically at the gravel, but there was nothing big enough to slow his momentum.

The tunnel got darker and colder; evil. The hairs on my arms bristled. The dank smell of evil brought horrid pictures to my mind, pictures of blood being spilled on an altar, pictures of a sword entering a stomach.

But those were nothing compared to what I saw now lay ahead of us.

The tunnel widened into a darker cavern, a cavern smaller than the Fields of Asphodel but bigger than the Isles of the Blest. And in the middle of it all was a huge, dark chasm, expanding as big as a city block. Coldness crept up from the edge; seeping into my soul and making me shiver. I'd recognize this place anywhere. This was Tartarus, the home to the foulest and cruelest monsters that had walked this Earth. Monsters that had killed and loved every minute of it. Monsters that would do it again for sport. Monsters that bred and thrived off of chaos and destruction and death.

And Grover was headed straight for the edge.

Percy had frozen, rooted to his spot by the sight before him. In that moment my worst fear was confirmed: this was the place from Percy's dream, and that meant the voice could only belong to one legion of horrid creatures. A Titan had spoken to him.

But I had a lot of time—hopefully—to think about this problem once we were out of here. But right now, Grover needed us, and I wasn't going to let him die.

"Come on, Percy!" I yelled, tugging at his wrist.

"But that's—"

"I know!" I shouted. "That's the place you described in your dream! But Grover's going to fall if we don't catch him."

That seemed to get him moving. We raced after Grover once again, looking on helplessly as he yelled and vainly clawed at the ground. But no matter his efforts, the shoes continued to drag him to his death. I didn't think we'd ever reach him in time.

And then his hooves saved him.

Well, not the hooves exactly, but because of the hooves the shoes had always been a loose fit. And now, I couldn't think of a greater blessing. Grover hit a big rock and the left shoe came flying off and soared down in the dark chasm. The right shoe kept tugging him along, but thankfully not as fast. Grover held on to the rock with all his strength, using it as an anchor.

He was a mere ten feet from the edge of the pit when we caught up with him, huffing and frazzled. We hauled him back up the slope and as far away from the pit as our feet could take us.

The remaining shoe tugged itself off, circled around us angrily, and kicked our heads in protest before flying off into the chasm to join its brother. I was glad it'd gone by itself; I was prepared to clip off its wings and throw it down there myself. Less work for me now, I guess.

We all collapsed, exhausted and breathing heavily, on the obsidian gravel. My limbs were all burning from the exertion, and my heart beat fast.

I looked over at Grover; he was scratched up pretty bad. Little cuts criss-crossed across his arms, and his hands were bleeding. His eyes had gone slit-pupiled with terror.

"I don't know how…" He panted. "I didn't…"

"Wait," Percy said. "Listen."

I turned my ears to the entrance to Tartarus, and I heard something—a deep whisper emanating from the darkness. I shiver traveled up my spine, because I was pretty sure I knew what the sound was coming from. I decided it was time to let Percy to know just where we were.

"Percy, this place—" I tried, but he stopped me before I could say anything more.

"Shh."

He stood up, as if trying to get a good look downhill at the pit.

The sound was louder now, and was steadily gaining volume with each second. It was a muttering sound, one that was murky and cold and evil, coming from deep underground.

Grover sat up. "Wh—what's that noise?"

My face grew grim. "Tartarus. The entrance to Tartarus."

Percy uncapped Riptide. It expanded in his hands and cast a faint bronze light over our dark surroundings. The muttering faltered for just second, as if the presence of Percy's sword was just that powerful. But then it resumed its chant, just as chilling as before.

The words were getting a little bit clearer now, and I could almost make them out. They were spoken in a language older than Greek; ancient and all but forgotten. I'd read a book once that was written in this language, and it had struck me that the words of this forgotten tongue were used mainly for—

"Magic," Percy said, coming to the same conclusion as me.

The voice was casting a spell. On us. This was not good…

"We have to get out of here," I said.

Together, we helped Grover to his hooves and all but ran back up the tunnel. My legs didn't seem like they were moving fast enough, almost like I was walking in water.

The voice was getting louder and angrier behind us, and we broke into a run, despite the protest from my legs.

Not a moment too soon.

A cold blast of wind clawed at our backs, as if the entire pit was inhaling. My feet slipped on the gravel, but I managed to stay standing. I ran faster and finally reached the top of the tunnel.

I don't think I'll ever be as glad to return to the Fields of Asphodel than I was in that moment.

The wind died, and a wail of outrage pierced the air. I had a feeling that whatever cast that spell had not intended for us to get away.

"What _was _that?" Grocer panted beside me when we collapsed behind a poplar grove. "One of Hades's pets?"

How I wish it was that simple, that the voice could have just been one of Hades's puppets determined to scare us. But I was never that lucky, and I had feeling that what I'd just witnessed was the start of something big.

I was nursing a scary idea, one that could most likely mean our deaths. No, it could mean much more than that. It could mean the deaths of hundreds. Because if it really was a Titan that had cast that spell, then only the gods could help us now. Maybe not even them. Who knew? If that voice was powerful enough to cast a spell that would've—should've—brought us to our deaths, then who knows what else it could be capable of?

I was over thinking things. _Way _over thinking things. We were here on a mission, and time was dwindling fast.

I exchanged a look with Percy, and I could tell how blatant his fear was. It was clear in his eyes. He looked at me warily, like he could read my thoughts and knew how fast the tables had turned.

I was over thinking things again. He was probably just scared. Aren't we all?

Percy recapped his sword and put it back in his pocket.

"Let's keep going." He looked at Grover. "Can you walk?"

The satyr swallowed. "Yeah, sure. I never liked those shoes, anyway."

I could tell how hard he was trying to sound brave, but he was still trembling just as badly as Percy and I were.

I stole one last quick glance down the dark corridor where the pit sat, dank and foul, waiting for its next victim.

Hades's palace was even more magnificent up close. With its black obsidian walls, towering parapets, grand bronze doors and intricate carvings, it was an architectural dream. But I was in no position to admire it, as our deadline loomed only hours away, and we still didn't have the master bolt.

We continued to advance towards the bronze gates, which featured the carvings I saw as we were approaching.

Up close, though, the elaborate designs I thought were beautiful from ten feet away turned out to be grisly scenes of death: atomic bombs exploding, soldiers wearing gas masks marching crouching in a trench, African famine victims waiting for food. They were from modern times, yet they looked as if they'd been carved thousands of years ago. I got the chilling feeling that I was looking at prophecies that had come true.

We strolled into the courtyard, coming across the strangest garden I've ever laid eyes upon. I'm not sure even the children of Demeter could conjure this up. Heck, Demeter herself probably wouldn't be able to recreate this oddity.

Vibrant mushrooms popped up every couple feet between the glimmering shrubs and peculiar incandescent plants. There weren't any flowers, but in their place grew precious jewels. Piles of rubies over here, a clump of diamonds over there. I guess they don't call Hades the Rich One for nothing.

Positioned all around the courtyard were statues that I classified immediately as works of Medusa. The statues were petrified children, satyrs, centaurs—all with a grotesque smile plastered on their face.

Standing in the center of the garden was an orchard of pomegranate trees, all dripping with the ripe, red fruit. The color of the food was so bright and so entrancing that they were hard to ignore, but I knew what would happen if you ate one of the decadent fruits. You would never be able to leave, stuck underground with no way upwards.

"The garden of Persephone," I said. "Keep walking."

We walked up the slick steps to the palace, and with each step I took towards the grand doors I felt like I was sealing my doom. We walked between black columns, through a black marble portico, and faced the double doors that led into Hades's palace.

_Here goes nothing,_ I thought as I pushed open the doors.

The entry hall had a polished bronze floor, reflecting the torchlight in such way that it gave the appearance of boiling metal. There was no ceiling, just the cavern roof, too far away.

There were numerous side doors, each guarded with a skeleton in military gear. Some were clad in Greek armor, some in British redcoat uniforms, and some in American camouflage. They each carried a unique weapon, ranging from wickedly pointed spears to loaded M-16s. As we walked down the hall, their empty eye sockets seemed to follow us, right up until we stopped in front of a set of double doors at the opposite end.

Two U.S. Marine skeletons guarded the doors. They grinned down at us, each clutching a gun that held a peculiar object loaded into the barrel, something that looked suspiciously like a grenade.

"You know," Grover mumbled beside me. "I bet Hades doesn't have trouble with door-to-door salesmen."

I stared up at the giant bronze doors and the skeleton guards, and silently agreed.

"Well, guys," Percy said. "I suppose we should… knock?"

We didn't have to. Just then, a hot dry wind blew through the corridor, and the doors swung open. The guards stepped aside. It seemed like we were expected.

"I guess that means _entrez-vous,"_ I said nervously.

The throne room was decorated no different than the hall. It featured the same shimmering bronze floors and the same glossy obsidian walls. The only thing different was the throne.

It towered over us, and was made up of fused-together bones; human bones. But that wasn't what made me gulp in fear. It was _who_ was sitting in throne that made me bite my lip and think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

Hades sat, as lithe and dangerous as a panther, in the throne. He loomed over us, at least ten feet tall, dressed in black silk robes and a crown of braided gold. His skin was white as snow, a great contrast against his hair, which was shoulder-length and black as a shadow.

His black eyes bored into us as we shakily approached. I could feel his intense aura swirling around me, taunting me to bend to his every wish. It reminded me of Ares, and how he could make me so angry just because he could. But this was stronger, much more powerful. For a second, I felt unworthy of standing before him, for he was so much better than I was. He was a god, and I was a measly half-blood.

_Snap out of it, _I thought to myself._He's doing this to you on purpose. _I dug my fingernails into my hand, trying to keep a grip on myself.

Hades possessed this strange intensity, the kind that could make you follow his will because he said you should. I had a feeling that if I wasn't in control of myself, he could probably convince me to do some pretty awful things.

"You are brave to come here, Son of Poseidon," Hades spoke. His voice was thick and steady, like oil. "After what you have done to me, very brave indeed. Or perhaps you are simply very foolish."

An odd numbness crept into my joints, enticing to me lie down and take a nap at Hades's feet. Curl up there and slumber eternally.

I dug my fingernails in deeper.

Percy stepped forward. "Lord and Uncle, I come with two requests."

Hades raised an eyebrow. He leaned forward menacingly in his throne. Shadowy faces appeared in the folds of his robe, distorted in agony and torment. It seemed as if the garment was stitched from souls that had tried to escape from the Fields of Punishment.

"Only two requests?" The god said. "Arrogant child. As if you have not taken enough. Speak, then. It amuses me not to strike you dead yet."

I gulped. This wasn't going like I'd hoped.

Percy was silent, staring off into space with a faint longing. After a few moments, I cleared my throat and prodded him in the back to get him moving.

"Lord Hades," Percy said. "Look, sir, there can't be a war among the gods. It would be… bad."

"Really bad," Grover added.

"Return Zeus's master bolt to me," Percy said. "Please, sir. Let me carry it to Olympus."

Hades's eyes blazed the color of hot coal, dangerously bright with anger. "You dare keep up this pretense, after what you have done?"

Percy glanced back at us, confused. I shrugged, signifying I didn't know what Hades was saying, either.

"Um, Uncle…" Percy said. "You keep saying 'after what you've done.' What exactly have I done?"

The throne room shook with a tremor so powerful it could've caused an earthquake. It probably did, with the degree of Hades's anger. Rubble fell from the cavern ceiling, raining down rocks and dirt. Doors burst open along the walls, and hundreds of skeletal warriors marched in. It looked like they came from every time period and nation in Western civilization. They lined the perimeter of the room, blocking the exits.

"Do you think I _want_ war, godling?" Hades bellowed.

Percy spoke carefully. "You're the Lord of the Dead. A war could expand your kingdom, right?"

"A typical thing for my brothers to say! Do you think I need more subjects? Did you not see the sprawl of Asphodel Fields?"

"Well…"

"Have you any idea how much my kingdom has swollen in the last century alone, how many subdivisions I've had to open?"

Percy opened his mouth to respond, but Hades was on a roll.

"More security ghouls," He complained. "Traffic problems at the judgment pavilion. Double overtime for the staff. I used to be a rich god, Percy Jackson. I control all the precious metals under the earth. But my expenses!"

"Charon wants a pay raise," Percy blurted out stupidly, like Hades would care about Charon's problems when his anger was at such a high peak.

"Don't get me started on Charon!" The god yelled. "He's been impossible ever since he discovered Italian suits! Problems everywhere, and I've got to handle them all personally. The commute time alone from the palace to the gate is enough to drive me insane! And the dead just keep arriving. _No, _godling. I need no help getting subjects! I did not ask for this war."

"But you took Zeus's master bolt."

"Lies!" The cavern ceiling continued to rumble. Hades rose from his throne, towering as high as a football goalpost. "Your father may fool Zeus, boy, but I am not so stupid. I see his plan."

"His plan?"

"You were the thief on the winter solstice," Hades said. "Your father thought to keep you his little secret. He directed you into the throne room on Olympus. You took the master bolt _and _my helm. Had I not sent my Fury to discover you at Yancey Academy, Poseidon might have succeeded in hiding his scheme to start a war. But now you have been forced into the open. You will be exposed as Poseidon's thief, and I will have my helm back!"

Something Hades has said caught my attention. The helm was missing? Why? Did the same person who took the master bolt, since it was obviously not Hades, take the Lord of the Dead's most powerful weapon? What did that person plan to use it for? Maybe this whole quest was just a diversion from something bigger, as if the thief knew we would only search for Zeus's bolt. But then that left the most important question: _what was going to happen?_

"But…" I spoke up, my mind whirring with unanswered questions. "Lord Hades, your helm of darkness is missing, too?"

"Do not play innocent with me, girl. You are the satyr have been helping this hero—coming here to threaten me in Poseidon's name, no doubt—to bring me an ultimatum. Does Poseidon think I can be blackmailed into supporting him?"

"No!" Percy said. "Poseidon didn't—I didn't—"

"I have said nothing of the helm's disappearance," Hades snarled. "Because I had no illusions that anyone on Olympus would offer me the slightest justice, the slightest help. I can ill afford for word to get out that my most powerful weapon of fear is missing. So I searched for you myself, and when it was clear you were coming to me to deliver your threat, I did not try to stop you."

"You didn't try to stop us? But—"

"Return my helm now, or I will stop death," Hades threatened. "That is my counterproposal. I will open the earth and have the dead pour back into the world. I will make your lands a nightmare. And you, Percy Jackson—_your_ skeleton will lead my army out of Hades."

The soldiers all took one step in unison, aiming their weapons.

I bit my lip, analyzing the situation. It was five hundred dead soldiers and one angry god against two half-bloods and a lygophobic satyr. I don't think we stood an ounce of a chance.

But, even with death so close, I was stubbornly opposed to giving up. We'd fought more monsters in a week than I'd seen in my entire life to get here, and I wasn't turning back. Percy seemed to have the same idea, because he didn't cower at the sight of the undead army.

"You're as bad as Zeus," Percy said. "You think I stole from you? That's why you sent the Furies after me?"

"Of course," Hades said simply.

"And the other monsters?"

Hades curled his lip. "I had nothing to do with them. I wanted no quick death for you—I wanted you brought before me alive so you might face every torture in the Fields of Punishment. Why do you think I let you enter my kingdom so easily?"

_"Easily?"_

"Return my property!"

"But I don't have your helm. I came for the master bolt."

"Which you already posses!" Hades shouted. "You came here with it, little fool, thinking you could threaten me!"

_What? _Why did he think we already had the master bolt? Didn't he know that a child of Athena wouldn't have let herself get led into a trap? Unless—

"But I didn't!"

"Open your pack, then."

Percy slung the backpack off his shoulder, uncertainty masking his face. Uneasiness masked mine.

Percy reached in and his eyes grew wide. Oh, no…

He produced a two-foot-long metal cylinder, spiked on both ends, humming with electricity.

My heart stopped.

The master bolt.

"Percy," I breathed, staring at the bright object that could—_had—_toppled our world. "How—"

"I—I don't know. I don't understand."

Ice lined my stomach when I realized we'd always had it. All this time we'd wasted, all these efforts had proved to be vain. But how did we get it? We hadn't started out with it, and we certainly hadn't picked it up on our journey. I stared at the bolt, scrutinizing it, as if I could bring forth answers with just my eyes.

"You heroes are all the same," Hades said, interrupting my thoughts. "Your pride makes you foolish, thinking you could bring such a weapon before me. I did not ask for Zeus's master bolt, but since it is here, you will yield it to me. I am sure it will make an excellent bargaining tool. And now… my helm. Where is it?"

I wasn't listening to Hades's threat. I kept replaying that last moment in my mind, the moment Percy pulled the bolt out of the backpack—

Wait. The backpack wasn't ours; it never was. The backpack belonged to _Ares._

Dread weighed down my heart. Ares had tricked us. How could I have been so foolish? The backpack, the ride west—all a decoy to avert our attention away from the fact that Ares was a traitor. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that the god of war would do this, but this was a new low—even for him.

"Lord Hades, wait," Percy said. "This is all a mistake."

"A mistake?" Hades roared.

The skeletons aimed their weapons. From high above, I heard the unmistakable sound of flapping wings. The three Furies swooped down to perch on the back of Hades's throne. The old hags stared at us tauntingly; as if they were saying _did you miss us?_

"There is no mistake," Hades continued. "I know why you have come—I know the _real _reason you brought the bolt. You came to bargain for_her."_

Hades opened his hand and showed us a ball of gold fire blazing in his palm. It jumped from his hand and detonated on the floor in front of us. When the flame subsided, it showed a middle-aged woman, suspended in a shower of gold. Her brown hair was frozen in the air, sticking outwards as if she was trying to turn her head. Her blue eyes showed fear so intense it rendered me silent. Percy, too, seemed to have lost the ability to speak.

_Percy's mom,_ I thought quietly, though I had no idea how I knew that. She must have been the one the Minotaur diminished on Half-Blood Hill that fateful night—the night that seemed a million years away.

Percy reached his hand out to touch her, but recoiled. Even from here, I could feel the blazing heat reaching out from the orb.

"Yes," Hades, satisfied that he had hit Percy's weakness. "I took her. I knew, Percy Jackson, that you would come to bargain with me eventually. Return my helm, and perhaps I will let her go. She is not dead, you know. Not yet. But if you displease me, that will change."

Percy didn't speak, lost in thought.

"Ah, the pearls," Hades said suddenly. The pearls… I'd forgotten about them. "Yes, my brother and his little tricks. Bring them forth, Percy Jackson."

Percy's hand moved, almost absently, into his pocket and brought out the pearls. Their light, pallid color was a change in the dark, gloomy throne room.

"Only three," Hades said. "What a shame. You do realize each pearl only protects a single person. Try and take your mother, then, little godling. And which of your friends will you leave behind to spend an eternity with me? Go on. Choose. Or give me the backpack and accept my terms."

My face grew ashen as the truth dawned on me.

_The price._

So I was right after all. I stared at Sally, frozen in a shimmer of light, knowing this was the price for the alluring pearls. Percy would have to choose which person he would leave behind to die.

Percy looked back at us, faced with an impossible decision.

"We were tricked," He told us. "Set up."

"Yes, but why?" I asked. "And the voice in the pit—"

"I don't know yet," He said. "But I intend to ask."

"Decide, boy!" Hades bellowed.

"Percy." Grover put his hand on my shoulder. "You can't give him the bolt."

"I know that."

"Leave me here," Grover said. "Use the third pearl on your mom."

"No!"

"I'm a satyr," Grover said bravely. "We don't have souls like humans do. He can torture me until I die, but he won't get me forever. I'll just be reincarnated into a flower or something. It's the best way."

"No," I said determinedly. If anyone was going to give Hades an ultimatum, it was me. I drew my bronze knife, making sure everyone knew that I was more than ready to fight. "You two go on. Grover, you have to protect Percy. You have to get your searcher's license and start your quest for Pan. Get his mom out of here. I'll cover you. I plan to go down fighting."

"No way," Grover protested. "I'm staying behind."

"Think again, goat boy," I countered.

"Stop it, both of you!" Percy cried. He looked at us, and his eyes were filled with both anguish and indebtedness. There was also a type of resolve in them, like he'd already made his decision.

"I know what to do," He said. "Take these."

He held out the pearls, gesturing for me to take one. I reluctantly plucked one out of his palm, not sure what he was doing. It wasn't until he also gave Grover one that I realized where this was going.

"But, Percy…" I started.

Before I could finish, he turned back and faced his mother.

"I'm sorry," He whispered. "I'll be back. I'll find a way."

The smug look on Hades's face faded into a confused scowl. "Godling…?"

"I'll find your helm, Uncle," Percy told him. "I'll return it. Remember about Charon's pay raise."

"Do not defy me—"

"And it wouldn't hurt to play with Cerberus once in a while. He likes red rubber balls."

"Percy Jackson, you will not—"

Percy shouted, "Now, guys!"

We smashed the pearls at our feet. The opaque spheres shattered on the bronze floor, and for a terrifying moment, nothing happened.

Hades yelled, "Destroy them!"

The army rushed forward, getting their weapons ready for fire. The Furies lunged, cracking their fiery whips.

Just as the skeletons opened fire, the pearl shards exploded with an eruption of green light and a gust of salty wind. A milky orb encased me, protecting me from the bullets and spears being thrown at me. We floated off the ground, rising away from the danger below.

Hades bellowed in rage behind us with such force that the entire palace shook in his wrath. I had a feeling the mortals above us could feel it as well.

"Look up!" Grover yelled. "We're going to crash!"

I glanced upwards and saw he was right. The stalactites were getting dangerously close, and the points were threatening to skewer us.

"How do you control these things?" I shouted.

I heard Percy's muffled voice shout back, "I don't think you do!"

I screamed uselessly as the bubbles slammed into the ceiling and we were enveloped in darkness.

For a split second, I thought we had died, that the stalactites had killed us.

But I could still feel that racing sensation, and realized we were soaring straight through the rock.

I stopped screaming and peered out of my sphere. I could see nothing but darkness, and experienced a scary feeling that we might not make it out.

But then my pearl broke through the ocean floor. The sea surrounded me, the fish and plants nothing but a colorful blur as we continued to fly upwards. And then we broke the surface.

I don't think I've ever been happier to see the sunlight than I was in that moment. We'd popped up in the middle of Santa Monica Bay, the sphere disappearing as soon as it had done its job. Percy grabbed me and hauled me over to a life buoy. I clung on with my life.

A shark had started to circle us, curious about the three kids that had come from nowhere.

"Beat it," Percy told it, and the shark turned and raced away.

I looked at the sun, soft and sitting in the west behind us, and figured it was early morning. Of course, it was also June twenty-first. The day of the summer solstice.

In the distance, Los Angeles was ablaze with fire, plumes of smoke rising from neighborhoods all over the city. I was right about Hades causing an earthquake, but I'd underestimated the degree of the damage.

However, the destruction Hades has caused was the farthest thing from my mind.

We had mere hours left to stop a war, and if we wanted to make it back to New York City in time, a distance of almost three thousand miles, we would have to leave immediately.

But first, we had to find the god who had sabotaged our quest.


	15. Chapter 15

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Percy Jackson and The Olympians.**

* * *

I heard the purr of a motor and saw the bright orange bow of a boat, the words COAST GUARD plastered on the side, gliding towards us, rocking with the waves. A man, wearing an equally bright orange jumper, stopped immediately when he saw us clinging to the buoy.

"Get in!" He barked, reaching down his hand to give us a lift. I grasped it first, and he all but flung me over the side of the boat. Percy came next, followed by Grover, who was wearing Percy's shoes. It was a good thing, too; it was enough for someone to wonder how three kids in street clothes had gotten out in the middle of the bay without seeing that one of them had hooves.

Percy was also sopping wet, even though I knew first hand that he had control over things like that. It was again a good thing; what would the Coast Guard think if he was perfectly dry?

The Coast Guard handed us dry towels and water bottles embezzled with the Coast Guard logo. I couldn't help but overhear the multitude of distress calls buzzing out of the radio, and I realized we weren't the only ones who needed saving. The Coast Guard sure had their work cut out for them. This was, by any means, a disaster.

After the Coast Guard dropped us off at the beach, we stumbled through the sand, watching Los Angeles burn against the gorgeous, ironic sunrise. As I walked, I realized my brain felt as fried as the city in front of me.

"I don't believe it," I said, taking a swig from the water bottle. "We went all that way—"

"It was a trick," Percy said. "A strategy worthy of Athena,"

"Hey," I warned; I didn't want my mother to be compared to the sabotaging traitor we had to face.

"You get it, don't you?" He asked.

I dropped my gaze, the minute anger swiftly being drained. "Yeah. I get it."

"Well, I don't!" Grover complained. "Would somebody—"

Something was weighing down my stomach, making it churn in an awful way. "Percy…" I interrupted as I realized the feeling was guilt. "I'm so sorry about your mother. I'm so sorry…"

Percy stayed silent.

"The prophecy was right." He said. "'You shall go west and face the god who has turned.' But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helm, and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I'll have caused it."

Grover seemed mystified. "But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?"

I stopped in my tracks. _Speak of the devil, _I thought bitterly._And he shall appear…_

There he was, wearing his usual black leather duster and sunglasses, an evil smirk plastered on his scarred face, positioned in the sand. An aluminum baseball bat was propped on his shoulder, glinting in the sunlight menacingly. His Harley motorcycle rumbled beside him, the headlights turning the sand blood red.

"Gee," I heard Percy mutter beside me. "Let me think."

"Hey, kid," Ares said, seeming a little too pleased. "You were supposed to die."

"You tricked me," Percy accused. "_You_ stole the helm and the master bolt."

Ares grinned. "Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbol of power—that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero who can run errands."

"Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice." Percy said, voicing my thoughts.

But the idea just seemed to amuse Ares. "Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impending the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at _him._ And Hades is still looking for this…"

From his pocket he took out a ski cap—the kind criminals wear—and placed it between the handlebars of his motorcycle. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

"The helm of darkness," Grover gasped.

"Exactly," Ares grinned. "Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going."

"But they're your family!" I protested. No matter how much trouble my dad had caused me (and the list is endless), I would never set him up against his own family.

But Ares, shrugging, didn't seem to agree. "Best kind of war. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say."

"You gave me the backpack in Denver," Percy said. "The bolt was in there the whole time."

"Yes and no," Ares said. "It's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow—" I clenched my fists. "—but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. The bolt is connected to it, sort of like that sword you got, kid. It always returns to your pocket, right?"

I wasn't entirely sure how he knew that, but I guess, as the war god, it was his job to know about weapons.

"Anyway," He continued. "I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would only return to the sheath once you reached the Underworld. You get close to Hades… Bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way—no loss. I still had the weapon."

"But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself?" Percy asked. "Why send it to Hades?"

Ares got a twitch in his jaw, and his eyes narrowed. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was battling another voice, deep inside his head. "Why didn't I… yeah… with that kind of firepower…"

He seemed lost in a trance. The seconds ticked by, faster and faster…

Percy and I exchanged nervous looks. What was going on?

But then Ares's face cleared, and he seemed resolved. "I didn't want the trouble. Better to have caught you red-handed, holding the thing."

"You're lying," Percy said. "Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn't your idea, was it?"

"Of course it was!" Smoke drifted up from behind him sunglasses, as if they were about to catch fire.

"You didn't order the theft," Percy guessed. "Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. That thing in the pit is ordering you around."

I was impressed. Percy's words made so much sense… and yet…

"I am the god of war!" Ares bellowed. "I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!"

_Dreams?_

"Who said anything about dreams?" Percy asked.

Ares looked agitated, but tried to cover it up with a smirk.

"Let's get back to the problem at hand, kid. You're alive. I can't have you taking that bolt to Olympus. You just might get those hardheaded idiots to listen to you. So I've got to kill you. Nothing personal."

He snapped his fingers, and the sand exploded at his feet. Out charged a wild boar, its nasty tusks yellowed and sharp. Its beady eyes, spiteful and carnivorous, bore into Percy, and I was surprised an animal could conjure up so much malice. It pawed at the sand, glaring, and waited for the command to kill.

Percy stepped back into the surf. "Fight me yourself, Ares."

Ares laughed, but it wasn't a contented laugh, or even an evil one. It was uneasy. "You've only got one talent, kid, running away. You ran from the Chimera. You ran from the Underworld. You don't have what it takes."

"Scared?"

"In your adolescent dreams." He snarled. His sunglasses were starting to melt from the heat of his eyes. "No direct involvement. Sorry, kid. You're not at my level."

The giant boar pawed the sand ferociously, and made a low growl. His head lowered, his tusks protruding…

I yelled, "Percy, run!"

The boar charged, but Percy stayed where he was. He had a determined glint in his eye, like he was resolved to stay and fight. But if he didn't do _something_ quick, he was going to be skewered.

As the boar continued to rush him, he uncapped Riptide and sidestepped, getting out of the charging boar's way. Just as it passed him, he slashed upward. The sword passed clean through the boar's tusk, and the severed thing fell at Percy's feet. But the injury seemed to only disorientate the animal, as it continued charging into the sea.

"Wave!" Percy shouted.

The sea obliged, and produced a huge wave, engulfing the boar like a blanket. The boar didn't have time to do much more than squeal in terror as the sea swallowed him up.

Percy turned back to the frustrated War God. "Are you going to fight me now?" He asked. "Or are you going to hide behind another pet pig?"

Ares's face contorted with rage. "Watch it, kid. I could turn you into—"

"A cockroach," Percy suggested irritably. "Or a tapeworm. Yeah, I'm sure. That'd save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn't it?"

Flames danced across the top of his smoldering glasses. "Oh, man, you are really asking to be turned into a grease spot."

"If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt. If I win, the bolt and the helm are mine and _you_ have to go away."

Ares sneered in a smug sort of way.

He swung the baseball bat off his shoulder. "How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?"

Percy gestured to his sword, like his choice was obvious.

"That's cool, dead boy," he said. "Classic it is." The baseball transformed into a huge, double-handed sword. The hilt was fashioned with a large silver skull with a blood red ruby in its mouth.

"Percy," I said, getting a horrible feeling about this. "Don't do this. He's a god."

"He's a coward," He said.

I swallowed and looked into the face of the boy that, just a few short weeks ago, I had been spoon-feeding ambrosia. He had changed so much; his previously scared and confused attitude was replaced one of a brave and strong manner. Even though we'd known each other for a short period of time, we'd gone through so much together, and I couldn't bear to see him die.

"Wear this, at least." I said. "For luck."

I slipped off my necklace, the five beads rattling against each other and my father's gold college ring. I tied it around his neck without a second thought.

"Reconciliation," I said. "Athena and Poseidon together."

A faint rosy color dusted his cheeks, but he managed a smile. "Thanks."

"And take this," Grover said, handing him a flattened tin can that'd had probably been hiding in his pocket for thousands of miles. "The satyrs stand behind you."

"Grover… I don't know what to say."

He patted Percy on the shoulder as he stuffed the tin can in his pocket.

"You all done saying goodbye?" Ares sneered. He started toward Percy, his black duster trailing behind him in the sea breeze, his sword glinting against the sunrise like fire."I've been fighting for an eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?"

_A smaller ego_, I thought sourly, watching as Percy continued to back up into the surf until it reached his ankles. Grover and I watched closely. I bit my lip, hoping for the best…

And then Ares made the first move. He cleaved downward at Percy's head, but Percy had put his sea powers to use. The water pushed him into the air and he catapulted over Ares, slashing his sword as he arched downwards. But Ares saw that coming. He twisted rapidly, and the perfect strike that would've caught him directly in the spine was deflected off the hilt of his sword.

Ares grinned. "Not bad, not bad."

He slashed again and Percy was forced to jump on dry land to avoid getting hit. That made me uncomfortable; if Percy was away from the water, that would make him twice as vulnerable. Percy seemed to be thinking the same thing, because he attempted to step back into the water, but Ares was there to prevent that.

He maneuvered his sword so fast that it was all Percy could do to deflect the strikes. Beads of sweat popped up on his brow, and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration. Ares was pushing him away from the surf, making sure not to leave any openings for an attack.

_Come on Percy,_ I thought._Get in close! You've got the disadvantage here! Make up for it!_

Percy did just that. He tried to get in closer, but Ares seemed to be waiting for that. He knocked the blade out of Percy's hands and kicked him in the chest with back-breaking force. I flinched as Percy landed in a soft sand dune, hoping he wasn't too injured.

I saw a flash of red and blue, and an ear-piercing siren sliced through the air. I looked away from the battle and saw we had company.

"Percy!" I yelled. "Cops!"

He didn't seem to hear me. He looked disorientated, like the boar before he fell into the sea. His eyes were dangerously unfocused, but he unsteadily got to his feet.

This wasn't good. Percy was weaponless and dazed, and now the police were here to interfere.

Car doors slammed shut, and my eyes kept alternating from the advancing policemen to the battle on the beach.

"There, officer!" someone yelled. "See?"

The gruff voice of a cop answered, "Looks like that kid on TV… what the heck…"

"What guy's armed," said another cop. "Call for backup."

I turned back to the battle just in time to see Percy roll onto his side. Ares sword slashed the sand.

Percy seemed to come out of his stupor. He dashed for Riptide and scooped it up, swiftly launching a strike at Ares's face, but it was deflected once again.

Percy stepped farther into the surf, not taking his eyes off of Ares's progressing figure.

"Admit it, kid," Ares said. "You got no hope. I'm just toying with you."

Percy stared back, unperturbed. His eyes were darting over Ares's tensing figure, analyzing the situation like a warrior. I could tell his ADHD was working overtime.

Beside me, spectators were gathering, gaping at the scene. Upon closer notice, I realized some of them were satyrs. Their unique, trotting gait gave them away. Some of the people were shimmering, too, as if some of Hades's ghosts had floated up to watch the battle. I even heard the unmistakable flapping of leathery wings above.

Another cop car pulled up, its sirens wailing loudly. I was starting to get nervous. So many mortals were watching, and I wasn't sure how much the Mist could conceal.

I tore my attention away from the crowd and focused on Percy. He had stepped into deeper water, drawing strength, but Ares was quick to strike. He lunged, and the tip of his sword grazed Percy's forearm.

A policeman shouted into a megaphone, his voice magnified. "Drop the guns! Get them on the ground. Now!"

Well, at least I knew what the mortals were seeing. Even now, I could see Ares's and Percy's swords flickering from shiny blades to powerful shotguns.

Ares suddenly turned to the crowd of people and glared icily at them, giving Percy some time to catch his breath. Five police cars were positioned on the edge of the sand, and police were crouching behind them, pistols trained on Ares.

"This is a private matter!" Ares bellowed. "Be gone!"

I tensed as he swept his hand. A wall of red flame rolled across the police cars. The policemen barely had time to dive for cover before their vehicles exploded. The spectators started screaming and scattered.

Ares turned back to Percy, roaring with laughter. "Now, little hero. Let's add you to the barbeque."

He slashed, but Percy expertly deflected. Percy finally got close enough to strike, and tried to fake Ares out with a feint, but his blow never reached him, as it was knocked aside.

The sea seemed to notice the tension in the air. It was rocking furiously, the waves hitting Percy in the back. Percy continued to back up, leading Ares in to his thighs.

But, suddenly, the waves started to recede. Percy looked a little strained, but I wasn't sure what he was hoping to achieve by holding back the waves.

Ares sauntered toward Percy, who lowered his blade exhaustingly. I narrowed my eyes, keeping a close eye on Ares. If Percy didn't pick up that sword now—

But suddenly, the water shot up and Percy rocketed over Ares's stunned face, riding on a wave. I couldn't help but smile as a six-foot-tall wave hit Ares full in the face, leaving him sputtering and spitting out seaweed. Percy landed behind him with a splash and feinted towards his head. Ares turned in time to raise his sword, but he was now confounded and didn't anticipate the trick. Percy changed direction, lunged to the side, and stabbed his sword straight down into the water, sending the point through the god's heel.

Ares's roar blasted into the air, making the previous earthquake seem minor. Even the water recoiled from Ares's fuming voice, leaving him standing in a wet circle of sand fifty feet wide.

Ichor flowed from a gash in the war god's boot, staining the dark leather with a golden tint.

Still raging, Ares limped toward Percy, muttering incoherent curses under his breath.

But something made his stop, something that even made my triumphant smile fade.

The sun faded. Sound was muffled. Color was drained. A cold, heavy presence passed over the beach, and it was if time was slowing, stealing the warm Californian breeze, leaving behind an Arctic temperature. It made its way into my skin, seeping down deep, filling me with an icy feeling. It made me feel hopeless and devastated.

But it passed just as abruptly as it came, and light was restored. The sound floating out of the burning city behind us was louder than ever. Color was seeping back into the world, along with the heat.

The police cars continued to burn, but the crowd, however, had taken Ares's hint and disappeared.

I was only faintly aware of my mouth hanging open, my eyes wide. But I didn't really care. Percy had just injured the war god. If that didn't brighten my day, I don't know _what_ could.

Ares lowered his sword, grudgingly accepting his defeat. But he wasn't done with curses.

"You have made an enemy, godling," He said furiously. "You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware."

His body began to glow. Percy, probably in shock, didn't avert his eyes.

"Percy!" I shouted, knowing what would happen if you witnessed the gods' true divine form. "Don't watch!"

Percy turned away just as a burst of light exploded in the corner of my eye, and a blast of heat grazed my neck.

The light died. When I looked back, Ares was gone. In his place, nestled in the tide, was Hades's helm of darkness.

Percy, an obvious look of triumph on his face, started towards us. But before he could near us, the sound of leathery wings overhead grew louder. Sure enough, with their moldy lace hats and fiery whips, the Furies drifted down from the sky.

Alecto stepped forward, her whip blazing.

"We saw the whole thing," She hissed disappointedly. "So… it truly was not you?"

Percy tossed her the helmet, which she caught in surprise.

"Return that to Lord Hades," He said. "Tell him the truth. Tell him to call off the war."

She hesitated, clearly unsure whether or not to believe him. But, running her forked tongue over her leathery lips, she said, "Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again…"

Alecto cackled, savoring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their leathery wings, and flew off into the smoke-filled sky.

Percy finally joined us, and I couldn't help but stare at him in amazement.

"Percy…" Grover started. "That was so incredibly…"

"Terrifying," I supplied.

"Cool!" Grover corrected.

Percy slouched, obviously feeling neither terrified nor cool. His face seemed drained of energy, like he was about to collapse. I guess I'd feel that way too if I'd just fought and defeated a god…

"Did you guys feel that… whatever it was?" He asked.

I nodded uneasily.

"Must've been the Furies overhead," Grover said.

I didn't think so. The Furies' shadow wouldn't have stopped Ares from killing Percy. It'd had to be something much bigger than Ares, something much more sinister…

Percy looked at me. He seemed to know what it was, and suddenly I did too. Whatever was in that pit, whatever was controlling Ares, had caused the temperature to drop and the life to fade. But why?

Percy took his backpack from Grover and peered inside.

"We have to get back to New York," He said. "By tonight."

"That's impossible," I said. "Unless we—"

"Fly," He finished.

I stared at him. Now he'd gone insane. "Fly, like, in an airplane, which you were warned never to do lest Zeus blast you out of the sky,_ and _carrying a weapon that has more destructive power that a nuclear bomb?"

"Yeah," He said. "Pretty much exactly like that. Come on."


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

* * *

Humans are funny little creatures. When things they see don't make perfect sense, they morph the truth until it fits their own little version of reality. Today was no different.

According to the L.A. news, the Santa Monica beach explosion had occurred when a crazy kidnapper fired a shotgun into a police car, hitting a ruptured gas tank.

The kidnapper (or, as he was known to us, Ares) was the same man that abducted Percy and two other adolescents in New York and brought them across country on a week-and-a-half voyage of terror.

The story, according to the reporters, was that Percy had caused the scene on the Greyhound in New Jersey as a kind of diversion to get away from the captor. The psychopathic abductor had caused the explosion on the Arch, because after all, no normal kid would be capable of such damage. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening his abductees, gotten a friend to take the photo, and notified police. Finally, after days and days of terror, little victimized Percy Jackson had a surge of courage and battled his kidnapper on the beach, shotgun-to-rifle. Police had arrived just in time. But in the huge explosion, in which five police cars were destroyed, the captor seized his chance and fled from the scene. I had a feeling the police were never going to catch the crazy kidnapper.

The reporters fed us the story, looks of pity and remorse on their faces. We played along, nodding and acting downright exhausted and tearful.

"All I want," Percy said, choking back fake tears as the camera turned on him. "Is to see my loving stepfather again. Every time I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew… somehow… we would be okay. And I know he'll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful city of Los Angeles with a free major appliance from his store. Here the phone number." Many people held their hearts at his moving statement, as if they were in danger of dropping dead right there from how inspired they felt. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. But at least Percy got us somewhere with his cheesy speech; the police and reporters passed around a hat and raised enough money for three tickets on the next plane to New York.

A policeman drove us to the nearest airport and dropped us off, wishing us good luck before we set through the doors. It was noisy and loud inside, as I suspected all airports were. We all but ran to the nearest ticket kiosk and booked the next flight to New York, which happened to leave in thirty minutes.

We all sank into the leathery chairs outside the jetway, twiddling our thumbs and catching our breath. Percy still had an iron grip on the backpack containing Zeus's master bolt, which had miraculously morphed into an innocent golden pen when we went through security.

Finally, our half hour was used up, and we boarded the flight.

I was still hesitant to let Percy on the plane; after all, what if Zeus ignored the fact that we held his master bolt and decided to blast us all to smithereens? But I knew we had no other choice.

Once the plane had flown off the ramp, there seemed to be more turbulence than considered normal. I had a feeling Zeus knew he would do nothing but upset all the other gods (minus Ares) by killing Percy, but that didn't stop him from making us feel uncomfortable. All through the flight, Percy, white-faced and visibly scared out of his wits, clenched the armrests with so much force his knuckles looked in danger of breaking.

Finally, we touched down at La Guardia, where the local press was gathered into one anxious horde outside security. We managed to evade them, though, with my quick thinking and my trusty Yankees cap. I lured the people away by invisibly shouting things like, "They're over by the frozen yogurt! Come on!"

Once that little problem was solved, I reappeared and joined Percy and Grover by the baggage claim. Together, we stepped out of the doors.

It was odd, being back in New York. The weather was moderately warm, so unlike the scorching heat of California. I turned around to catch sight of the sun that was steadily gliding across the sky, back towards the west. The familiar Manhattan buildings loomed tall and proud in the distance, no doubt scrutinizing the hustle and bustle all beneath their watchful eye. Taxis honked, people shouted, and feet were clopping on by.

It was good to be home.

Except, I wasn't exactly home yet. My home was at Camp Half-Blood, and we still had to return the master bolt—

"Listen," Percy said, stepping out onto the sidewalk to get out of the way of the people leaving the airport. We stopped near the taxi stand. "You guys need to get back to Half-Blood Hill. Chiron needs to know what happened."

"What are you going to do?" I asked.

He clutched the backpack even tighter, and I knew his answer before the words left his mouth. "I'm going alone."

Grover gave a slight whimper. "Percy… if something happens… if they don't believe you—"

"They will," He said firmly. "They have to."

"Percy," I said. "We can't just leave you… you could—you could get lost, you could—"

"I won't get lost," He said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I know this city like the back of my hand."

I stuck my hands in my pockets. I didn't feel comfortable letting Percy venture to Mount Olympus on his own. I'd been there before, on a field trip, and the throne room—even without its occupants—was so charged with power that it sent chills up your back. Imagine what it would feel like if the seats were filled…

But by the look of utter determination in his eyes, I knew Percy wasn't going to relinquish his idea. I guess it was really his quest, after all. But still…

Percy seemed to sense my skepticism. "Listen, I understand, after all we've been through, that you would want to come with me. But I just feel like… like I need to do this on my own. Besides, if something goes wrong—" _Gods forbid,_ I thought. "—it's crucial you guys get the truth to Chiron. Okay?"

I hesitated. I was still on the ropes about letting him go, but I also understood his logic. Chiron needs to know the truth, with or without Percy.

I sighed. "Okay."

A relieved smile spread onto his face, but was quickly wiped off when he remembered what he was about to go in to.

I flagged down the next taxi. "You still got some mortal money?" I asked him.

He jangled his pocket. "Enough for a one-way trip to Manhattan."

The bright yellow cab pulled up. I opened the door. "Well, off you go."

Before Percy could open his mouth for a good-bye, he was tackled by Grover, who strangled him with his arms that seemed to be of immense hugging power. I laughed.

"Just… don't get yourself killed, alright?" Grover said.

"I promise." Percy responded before sliding into the cab. He gave us a faint wave, closed the door, and the taxi sped off. Grover and I were left in its dust.

"Well… I guess it's just you and me." I said.

Grover gave a faint smile. "Just like old times."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, I found myself standing at the side of Farm Road 3.141, looking up at the seemingly empty hill that gave way to home.

I looked over at Grover; he was either very excited or very scared to be returning. I gave him an encouraging nudge, and together, we started to climb.

It seemed to take forever. It might have been just my anticipation to see my friends, or the prospect of sleeping in a bed and falling back into a normal schedule; I wasn't sure. I was just focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not passing out of hunger and exhaustion.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally reached the crest of the hill, and a feeling of joy overwhelmed me. Below, I could see campers crossing the camp grounds, some sporting bronze breast plates and wielding swords, some just lounging aimlessly in the grass. I gazed out over the Long Island Sound, amazed that, just a few short hours ago, I was looking at a whole different sea.

I studied the cabins, one by one, trying to brand them in my memory so that I could never forget them. My eyes rested upon my own cabin last, Cabin six. I don't think I've ever been happier to set my sights on the cabin than I was now.

Almost as if my feet were acting for me, I strode down the slope, and people took notice at once to the two figures descending from the hill.

The first person who reached me was Luke. I'd almost forgotten how brilliantly his hair glimmered in the sun, how bright his eyes sparkled. He engulfed me in a brief hug before patting Grover on the back.

"Annabeth, Grover…" He said. "You made it! You're alive!"

"Barely," I muttered, but Luke didn't seem to hear.

A crowd had accumulated now, and a flurry of hands descended upon me, hugging me or patting my back in congrats. Finally, Chiron broke through the throng, and he, too, voiced his amazement.

"Well," He said, a sparkle in his eye. "I see you've made it back alive. Rather beaten, but alive."

"Yeah," I said, my cheeks flushed.

Suddenly, Luke called out.

"Where's Percy?" He asked. "He's not—"

"Oh no," I said quickly, kicking myself for not voicing the reason for his absence earlier. "He's… finishing the quest, I guess you could say." I turned to the centaur. "Chiron, can we…?"

"Of course," He said, ushering us through the crowd, which parted before him, without a word, soundlessly leading us up to the Big House and into his office.

Grover and I sank into the leathery chairs with a breath of relief. Chiron smiled at our relieved faces. "I imagine you've waited a while for some actual rest?" He asked.

"You have no idea…" I said.

Chiron gave a crinkly-eyed smile and, before my eyes, his centaur-half shrunk into his wheelchair.

"How do you do that?" I muttered, mostly to myself, my ADHD taking hold.

Chiron answered with a wink, "Years and years of practice, Annabeth, and just a dollop of magic." He wheeled closer to us and settled underneath a painting of the Counsel of Olympus. "But I suspect you have not requested the privacy of my office to discuss trivial matters such as this?"

"No," I gave a sighed and delved into our story. "Well, you see, I guess it all started when we boarded that Greyhound…"

And so it went, for what seemed like hours. Chiron sat there patiently, giving the occasional "Ah," or "Ouch," at the right times. I babbled on and on, revealing every detail from what the Furies were wearing on the bus to the intensity of fear I felt as Grover almost dropped off into Tartarus.

When I was finished, Chiron gave a wearied sigh. "So Perseus is in Olympus right now, and the gods are hopefully accepting the truth as you present it?"

"Yes," I said. "Chiron, if something goes wrong—"

"Try not to worry, Annabeth. I'm sure it's all fine."

And it was hard not to believe someone who'd seen it all.

* * *

I exited the Big House, Grover galloping along beside me, and was at once bombarded with campers. Questions flew like Pegasi, and I barely had time to answer one when five more erupted from someone's mouth.

I was flustered; I'd never, not once, gotten this much attention. Well, considering Grover and I were the first to return to camp alive since Luke's quest, it's not difficult understanding why the campers would be happy. But I wasn't smiling. Not, at least, until Percy returned from Olympus.

"Guys, guys!" Someone yelled over the commotion. I saw it was Luke, and my mouth transformed into an involuntary grin. "Let's give them some rest. They deserve it."

The crowd gradually stopped talking and allowed Grover and me to pass through, however reluctantly.

"Thanks," I muttered to Luke as the crowd dispersed.

"Anytime," He whispered back.

I walked towards the Athena cabin, suddenly realizing how exhausted this whole ordeal had left me. All I wanted to do was curl up on my bed and take a nap…

I pushed open the door, and I saw that the cabin was empty, for the moment at least. I took the time to take in my cabin; I never realized how much I missed it until now.

The cabin was comfortably messy, like it always was. I saw the bookshelves, stacked side-to-side so that they took up half the back wall. There were easily a million books perched in the shelves, and I idly remembered the loss of my architecture book, courtesy of the hectic bus ride where the Furies paid us a visit. I guess it was a good thing I had plenty others to fill its place.

Just on the other side of the bookshelves were two fairly large tables, each surrounded by six or so chairs. I really missed sitting in those chairs, spending hours getting lost in scrutinizing the old scrolls and war maps, or reading about history. It was, in all fairness, my very own version of therapy.

Just next to the dubbed library were several long workbenches and tables. Above them, perched on the wall, were cupboards that I knew were full of building materials. Sitting on a table was a half-finished 3-D replica of the Empire State Building. Blueprints and maps, books and broken pencils were splayed out in the oddest places, just waiting to be picked up again.

I sat down on my bunk and glanced at my poster of the Parthenon. Books and maps were still sprawled messily across the bed—"We didn't want to misplace your stuff," my half-brother, Malcolm, had said to me later with a wry smile—and I looked proudly at the owl stitched into the covers. The bunk gave a slight creak as I laid down, staring up at the bottom of the bunk above me, my arms folded behind my head.

"It's good to be home," I whispered contentedly, rolling over on my side.

As I turned over, though, I felt something protruding from my pocket. Perplexed, I sat up and reached a hand into the pocket of my jeans, pulling out a shimmering pink scarf.

I almost laughed, looking into the bright pink fabric. Aphrodite's scarf, recovered from Waterland. How could I have forgotten?

I fingered the silk, marveling at how smooth it was. Upon closer inspection, I realized the scarf was inlaid with delicate gold strings. When I leaned down for a closer look, I caught a whiff of the heavenly smell emanating from the fabric, and I had a sudden desire to hold it to my face and take a great big sniff—

_It's love magic_, I warned myself. _Put it down, now…_

It took lots of effort, but I did eventually force the scarf out of my face. I knew what would happen if I continued on with what I had intended to do; the scarf was practically shimmering with love magic, and gods know I didn't want to be effected by that dopey potion.

As I gazed into the fabric, though, I knew what I had to do with it. Of course, my first thought was to burn it, but that would probably result in Aphrodite sending doves my way to give me little _presents._ No, this was a trophy, and it deserved to be recognized.

Leaving behind my silky bed, I trooped out of my cabin, keeping my head down as to not attract any more perusing campers. Luckily, I made it to the Big House unnoticed.

I slipped in through the screen door silently. Neither Chiron nor Argus, who normally resided here when he wasn't patrolling the grounds, were anywhere to be seen. I tiptoed through the old farm house, moving silently down the main hall.

I came to the stairs, treading up three four flights of stairs before I stopped under a green trapdoor positioned in the ceiling. I pulled the cord, and a ladder tumbled out.

I stared at the wooden rungs of the ladder hesitantly. I'd never been up there before, and I chilled me to think what could be hiding in the attic. But, clutching the scarf, I willed myself to put one foot on a rung, and then another, and then another. Soon, my head was popping out of the hole in the ceiling and I was peering into the attic.

It was dusty, to say the least. Dust motes floated around leisurely, passing in and out of the sad-looking rays of light that filtered the attic. It was filled with relics of Greek heroes—cobweb-covered armor stands; dull shields pitted with rust; leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying things like ITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS.

On the far side of the room, I saw a table filled with things that looked like they belonged in Frankenstein's lab. Perched on a long table were glass jars filled with something that looked suspiciously like formaldehyde. Pickled_ things_—for lack of a better word—floated in the jars. Severed claws, yellow eyes, a set of viscously pointed teeth, and even a lone, hairy finger sat in the glass containers. Shivering, I quickly looked away.

A stuffed Hydra head hung on a wall just next to the creepy body parts. It looked like a giant, mutated snake's head, what with its pointed horns and a full set of shark-like teeth. The plaque beneath it read: HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N.Y., 1969.

I climbed out of the trapdoor hole, where I had been perched, transfixed, for last five or so minutes. And what I saw next immediately made me want to scurry back.

Sitting on a wooden tripod stool, dressed in a tie-dye dress, lots of beads and a headband fixed around her thinning black hair, was a mummy.

I always knew there was something up here that delivered prophecies, but Chiron never told me _what._ Now, I was glad he'd kept it a secret. Her skin was thin and wrinkled from years of sitting, stationary and dead, in this dusty old attic. It was leathery, too, as though it had hardened from soft skin ages ago. Her eyes were glassy white slits that didn't look like eyes at all, as if they had been replaced with marbles.

I quickly looked away. I didn't need—nor want—a prophecy. Not today, at least.

After rummaging around the dusty hero junk, I found what I was looking for—a rusting typewriter. It took me ten minutes, but I also managed to find a piece of thick paper, wrinkled and discolored around the sides. Since I couldn't find scissors, I used my dagger—which had never left side since I left camp a week ago—to chop of the ruined edges. I fixed the lopsided paper into the typewriter, and began to type:

**SCARF OF THE GODDESS APHRODITE**

RECOVERED AT WATERLAND, DENVER, CO., BY PERCY JACKSON AND ANNABETH CHASE

Satisfied, I plucked the paper out of the typewriter's grasp and attached it to the scarf with a string. I gently laid it down among the dusty relics, and stepped back to see how the pink looked amid the sea of tarnish and dust. Unsurprisingly, it clashed horribly with the gold and silver objects surrounding it, but at least it would draw someone's eye, and, when they leaned down to read the tag, they'd see my name. That's really all I wanted.

With a quick glance in the mummy's general direction, I scampered back down through the trapdoor, down the four flights of stairs, out the door, and straight into Luke—literally.

"Hey," He said, reaching out an arm to steady me, as I had run right into him.

"Oh, hi," I said.

"I've been looking all over for you."

"You have?" I tried to stop myself, but my blush could not be contained.

"Yeah," He smiled. "Do you wanna… take a walk?"

"Er, sure."

We walked, side by side, through the camp. He led me to the canoe lake, where we each sat on corresponding rocks. I drew my knees to my chest as Luke broke the silence.

"So… how was it? The quest, I mean."

And I couldn't help but tell him everything.

When I got to the part about his flying shoes almost taking Grover to Tartarus, he cursed quite loudly.

"Sorry about that. I—I didn't know…"

"Well, everyone's fine now, right? At least Grover was able to get the shoes off. If it was Percy, I'm not so sure…"

Luke's expression was unreadable. "Right," he said. "Glad everything worked out."

His voice sounded constricted, like he was holding back something. Maybe there was something about the shoes he'd overlooked and just now realized what was wrong with them. I didn't prod, though. How embarrassing would it be to have your gift almost kill its recipient?

I continued on with the story, and when I finished, Luke said nothing. He just stared into the water. I didn't know what he was thinking about.

Suddenly, a burst of sound from behind me made me jump.

I quickly turned around and saw a horde of campers congregated at the base of Half-Blood Hill, cheering. I stood up on my rock to get a better look, and saw a faint figure in the distance. Even from here, I could see how haggard he looked, like he'd just gone to Hell and back. That could only mean one thing.

Percy was back.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians.**

* * *

The sun was hot on my face and the sand was quite warm beneath my feet as Percy and I scouted the crowded beach, looking for a suitable place to spread our picnic blanket and anticipate the fireworks that would fill the sky in less than an hour. It was Fourth of July, just two weeks after we'd returned from the quest. Everything seemed to have went relatively well up in Olympus (or so Percy had said), and the war had been called off.

Well, not_ everything_ went smoothly. The matter on Kronos and how he was able to reach beyond Tartarus had been deemed closed. That infuriated me; for all we know, Kronos could be sitting in his Underworld prison right now, planning his return. And if he succeeded, there would be no stopping him.

But I pushed these thoughts out of my mind for now. It was Fourth of July, and I was determined not to ruin it by thinking about vengeful Titans.

We finally found an empty patch of beach and set down the blanket, but before it had even floated down onto the sand, I heard muffled footsteps and turned. Grover was striding towards us, a bittersweet smile on his face.

Though he was dressed in his usual T-shirt and sneakers, he couldn't have looked more different from when we'd first trekked off for the quest. He looked older, like he'd gained a few years in the past week. His goatee was thicker, no longer the wispy hairs that were previously scattered on his chin. He'd gained some weight, and his horns had grown at least an inch, so that he was now forced to wear his Rasta cap around the clock to appear human.

I knew what was coming. Ever since he'd received his long-coveted-for searcher's license from the Counsel of Cloven Elders (who had declared Grover's performance on the quest "brave to the point of indigestion" and "horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past."), he'd been itching to start his search for Pan. I tried to force a smile as he drew nearer to tell us his goodbyes, but it was hard to see him go after all we'd been through.

"I'm off," He said. "I just came to say… well, you know."

I wanted to say something, anything, that would make him feel confident, though I'm not sure he needed any more self-assurance. He seemed pretty pleased with himself.

Unable to find my tongue, I instead drew him in for a hug.

"Keep your fake feet on," I said weakly. Grover grinned.

"Where are you going to search first?" Percy asked, keeping his tone conversational.

"Kind of a secret," Grover said sheepishly. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan…"

"We understand," I said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?"

"Yeah."

"And you remembered your reed pipes?"

"Jeez, Annabeth," He grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat."

But he didn't sound all that annoyed.

With finality, he gripped his walking stick and slung his backpack over his shoulder. He looked like a hitchhiker you might find on the side of a highway.

"Well," He sighed. "Wish me luck."

He gave me another hug, clapped Percy on the shoulder, and set off through the sand dunes, leaving us here to watch him go.

Just then, the fireworks exploded to life overhead. I glanced upwards and saw Hercules lunging across the sky, killing the Nemean Lion, Artemis chasing the boar through the stars, and even George Washington—son of Athena—crossing the Delaware.

"Hey, Grover," Percy called.

He turned at the edge of the woods and looked back.

"Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas."

Grover grinned, and then he was gone.

"We'll see him again," I said confidently, ignoring the fact that no searcher had ever come back in two thousand years. I didn't want to think that I'd just seen Grover for the last time. He was going to come back. He had to.

I sat down on the picnic blanket and Percy joined me. I stared up into the sky, and, while Theseus was putting on a show killing the Minotaur, I thought about something that had been plaguing me since Percy had brought it up in the back of an animal-smuggling trailer that been our transportation to Las Vegas, the one about my father. I couldn't help but think that Percy could be right about me trying to give it another shot, but I knew my stepmother would be the same as ever. Still, though, Percy's words rang in my head: _You should write him a letter or something. _

_Maybe I will_, I thought, folding my arms beneath my head and gazing up at the bright colors dancing across the sky, but I wasn't sure it would be anytime soon. After all, I still had all of July to ponder the rest of my year.

* * *

The month sped past, and I found that my time to make my decision was dwindling rapidly. Still, even with my looming deadline, I found enough time to enjoy myself. I would sometimes think of new strategies and plans for Capture the Flag, and made alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands. I sharpened my swordplay techniques, and I often found myself walking along the lake. Sometimes Luke joined me, and we'd talk until he had to leave to teach in the arena.

Sometimes, when I was alone on my odysseys on the lake shoreline, I'd think about the letter I might write my father. The thought still made me uneasy; what was I supposed to say anyway? _Dear Dad, can I come to live with you even though I'm sure to attract blood-thirsty monsters that just might ruin your wife's sofa? _No, that letter was much better left unwritten, for the moment anyway.

Other times, like right now, I'd think about the prophecy Percy had received at the beginning of our quest, going through each line to make sure everything had surely happened.

_You shall go west, and face the god that has turned._

We went to L.A., and Percy faced the god who had turned—though it had been Ares, not Hades as I'd suspected.

_You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned. _

We found the master bolt _and_ the helm of darkness, each returned to their rightful owners.

That was it, according to Percy. He hadn't told me the rest—and I was sure there was more—but if he wasn't going to spill, then I'd never know.

Well, actually, he had said something… something along the lines of _you shall fail to save what matters most in the end._ That meant his mother, no doubt, and that just because Percy had failed to save her didn't mean that she hadn't been saved. (Percy had told me at the bonfire the night we got back from the quest that his mother had been released from the Underworld.)

But I knew there was another line; prophecies always had an even number, and they all rhymed. Neither_ turned_ nor _returned _sounded remotely like _end_, so what could the last line be? I absently went through all the words that rhymed with _end_ in my head: mend, lend, bend, friend, blend, ascend, vend, attend…

I found myself doing this as the smell of decadent food wafted into my nostrils, and I realized that dinner had started. I grudgingly abandoned the lake and started toward the pavilion, the rhymes still floating around in my head.

* * *

The rest of the month continued to pass quickly—much too quickly. Before I knew it, I found myself sitting at my desk in the Athena cabin as silvery shafts of light danced over the floor, staring sullenly at the blank piece of paper in front of me.

It was time to make a decision—stay year-round at camp, like I'd done so many times it only felt natural, or go home for the year and tie up loose ends.

I looked out the window, and saw Percy walking across the grounds to his own cabin, and his voice suddenly rang in my ears: _You shouldn't give up._

Was that what I was doing? Giving up? The thought of me—child of Athena—giving up filled me with dread.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the ceiling.

Maybe I_ was_ giving up on my dad. I'd just accepted the fact that he preferred his family over me… but maybe I wasn't being fair. Was I? But he'd never shown me any kind of affection… but then again, I haven't been home in a couple of years. Did he miss me? Did he want me home?

Maybe… just maybe… he'd changed. After all, I'd watched Percy transform from a protective, confused, disbelieving, skeptical, self-proclaimed mortal to a still-protective, brave, clever half-blood. Surely my father could change too?

I heaved a huge sigh, and, with a creak of my chair, lifted a pen to start my letter.

* * *

The end of summer session came with amazing speed. I didn't want this summer to end—partly because of the fun I'd had, partly because I was scared what was awaiting me when I left.

But, as all the campers gathered to have one last meal together until next summer, I forgot all my nervousness and enjoyed the food.

At the bonfire, the counselors awarded the end-of-year beads. When I got mine, I saw it was pure black, disrupted only by the sea-green trident shimmering in the center. I looked over at Percy; he was blushing.

"The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!"

The whole camp cheered, myself among them. We all got to our feet, and my cabin mates steered me to the front so I could share in the applause.

It hit me only then that I'd actually completed a quest—a quest I'd waited for seven years to receive. As my chest filled slowly with pride, I looked around into the smiling faces of my friends and couldn't believe I wouldn't be seeing them for a whole year.

The next morning, I woke up to find the stationary form letter on my bedside table:

_Dear_ Annabeth Chase ,_

_If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit._

_Have a nice day!_

_Mr. D (Dionysus)_

_Camp Director, Olympian Counsel #12_

I stared at the letter. Normally, I would've already arranged plans with Chiron to stay the year, and I'd indifferently throw the letter aside. But this time was different. I had not arranged any plans, because I did not plan on staying.

I put the letter on my side table and climbed out of bed, noticing that most of my cabin was already awake. They were all running around and packing their bags, or sweeping the floors and throwing away litter for final inspection. With a look out the window, I saw the sun hanging high in the sky, and realized I'd slept in later than I'd meant to.

"Annabeth," Malcolm called from across the cabin, a broom in his hand.

"Yeah?"

"Chiron wanted me to give this to you."

He handed me a crisp, white letter with the words _Annabeth Chase, 3.141 Farm Road, Long Island, New York _scrawled on the front in achingly familiar handwriting. I looked at the return address, and, sure enough, it was from my dad.

I tore it open, half of me hoping he would tell me not to come home, the other half hoping he would say the opposite.

I smoothed out the letter and stared at his words:

_Dear Annabeth,_

_I would be elated if you could come home this summer! I've missed you since you left. It just hasn't been the same without you here._

_I'm glad you want to give it another try. Helen is just as happy, and Bobby and Matthew seemed to have missed you._

_I'll pick you up at around dusk; that is how long it will take to get to Camp. Helen and the boys want to come, also._

_I just want to make sure you know that I love you, and that you always have a place here, no matter what._

_Love you, Dad_

It was short, but it still made my insides wrench with guilt. I'd always said I despised his guts, and my step-mother, Helen's, too, and yet here he was, saying he still loved me and that I was always welcome. It made me feel awful.

I put down the letter and instead busied myself packing. I filled up my Waterland backpack with all of my belongings (which didn't add up to much)—my camp shirts, my jeans, my shoes and my dagger. I decided to leave my many posters of architectural wonders plastered to the wall, to welcome me back next year. _Next year_—I gulped. I really was leaving.

With everything packed and ready to go, I left the cabin and strolled the grounds, trying to stuff everything into my memory to last me until next summer. I decided to stop by the arena first; it always held good memories. So I set off through the camp, passing the odd assortment of cabins, coming to a stop when I reached the circular, marbleized stadium and peered inside, but I saw it was occupied.

Luke was inside, slashing off the heads of dummies with an enviable type of grace and ease. His intense face glistened with sweat as he concentrated. I hung back, watching.

I was really going to miss him when I went away. Like me, he stayed year-round, seeing as he had nowhere else to call home. I almost wondered if he was going to miss me, as only having Clarisse for company must get pretty depressing.

As he continued to hack and swish, oblivious to having any company, my stomach lurched strangely. The sweat that was gleaming on his face was peculiarly attractive, and my eyes were drawn to his own. The frosty blue was ablaze with concentration, and, even though he used the sword like only an expert could, they were oddly detached from the present…

I sighed quietly and decided it was time to leave. I still had the lake and the Big House to visit, and Luke couldn't possibly have enough stamina to continue until I came back.

_I'll see him again,_ I promised myself. _Just to say goodbye._

I gulped. _Goodbye._ I was once again consumed with anxiety at the prospect of spending a year with my father.

I walked away from the arena then, resuming my tour of the camp. I passed the amphitheater, which sat empty; the climbing wall, with its scorching lava sliding idly down the rocks; the stables, where the Pegasi whined sadly; the Armory, where steam still billowed out in thick puffs.

Finally, I steered myself towards the Big House so I could say my goodbyes to Chiron.

On my way, I passed the strawberry fields. The fruits glowed like rubies in the sun, which was steadily climbing higher in the sky and gaining heat. I wiped sweat off my brow and silently cursed Apollo under my breath. The temperature seemed to gain ten more degrees after that.

I carried on, stopping along the way to say goodbye to some friends and cabin mates that were leaving, suitcases in hand. When I finally arrived at the Big House, I saw that the porch was deserted. I knocked, but no one answered. Figures; Chiron was probably helping the campers down by the cabins, or setting some last-minute plans into place. And Mr. D… well, he was probably off somewhere, sulking that he had to endure another sober year.

I dropped into a chair, thankful for the light relief the shade gave me, and stared out at the scenery. From my perch here, I could see Thalia's pine, the branches leisurely swaying in the light breeze. I couldn't see it, but I knew the real world lay just beyond her hill. It scared me that, in just a few short hours, I would be venturing over that exact same hill and into the unknown for the first time in _so long_…

I was becoming jittery; why was the prospect of leaving making me feel so nervous? In an effort to relieve my nerves, I rose out of the chair and strode down the steps. I headed toward the arena again; maybe Luke was still there. The idea calmed my edginess immediately.

I passed the strawberry fields, which were actually drooping pathetically from the heat. Sweat continued to slip down my face, and I bit back another curse aimed at Apollo.

I could finally see the arena, the worn white stone reflecting the sunlight so that it acted almost like a light. As I drew closer, I listened for any sign that Luke was still in there—maybe a clink of a sword, or even a grunt—but all seemed silent.

Sure enough, as I peered into the arena, it was empty. The decapitated dummies lay sprawled on the ground, nothing more than a jumble of straw and burlap. I walked forward and prodded the remains of one with my toe; this dummy definitely wasn't going to bother anyone anytime soon.

With a light sigh, I left the arena and the ruined dummies, hoping to run into Luke later.

It was then that I realized I hadn't seen Percy at all today. I ventured all over the camp, and I hadn't, not once, run into him. It was really odd—

_"HELP!"_

The panicked voice filled the air, ringing in my ears. At first, the strong tug out of my reverie left me blank and confused, trying to grasp what the frightened yell had meant. And then it sunk in.

Without a second thought, I sprinted toward the voice as a conch horn's deep echo pierced the air. Everyone else seemed to have the same thought, as the people who had not yet left were also running towards the commotion. Another yell rang out, coming from the edge of the woods.

When I arrived on the scene, an immense fear and horror grasped my insides. Leaning against two nymphs, green-faced and unconscious, was Percy.

"What happened?" I demanded the nymphs. They looked frightened.

"He was in the woods and dangerously close to fainting." One said hurriedly.

"We took him by the arms and aided him in leaving the woods." The other finished.

Chiron arrived just then, before I could furthermore interrogate the nymphs. He took one look at Percy, and said, "Lay him down. Gently."

The nymphs did as they were told. Chiron kneeled next to Percy and felt his pulse. I kneeled also; he looked much worse up close. His skin was slowly losing its color, retreating to a sickly gray. On his hand, I noticed, with a sinking feeling in my stomach, a shining, red welt the size of a golf ball, oozing yellow puss.

I looked at Chiron, my eyes wide with repulsion and worry, and saw that his eyes were set on the welt.

"Pit scorpion venom," He said grimly. "We don't have to time to move him to the infirmary; I must heal him here. Even now, his time is dwindling."

"Can you heal it?" I asked, my voice strained.

"I am sure I can."

With that, he placed one hand on Percy's forehead and started to mutter words in Greek under his breath. After a few moments of this, he then moved his hand to the welt, gingerly touching it with his forefinger—though from hesitation to touch the gruesome injury or from worry of hurting him, I wasn't sure—and continued to mutter the words, but with more force. A thin layer of sweat was forming on Chiron's brow now, either from the unyielding heat or the energy his healing was taking out of him.

He drew back his hand after what seemed like forever and took a shaky breath. "Will, call Argus to take him to the Big House. Annabeth, when he comes back, go with them. I want you to stay with Percy and feed him ambrosia and nectar."

I nodded, and Will Solace took off to alert Argus.

"I want everyone else," Chiron said more loudly, addressing the large crowd that had now gathered around Percy's limp form. "to continue with the activities you were doing before. I assure you all Percy will be fine."

The crowd, along with the nymphs, dispersed. When we were alone, I turned to Chiron.

"What did you do to him?"

"I used an ancient curse, specifically designed for this type of venom. It significantly lessens the amount of toxin in his bloodstream, though I'm afraid it won't help with the pain."

I looked down at Percy; his skin was no longer gray, but instead an ugly shade of green. I glanced at his wound; it looked worse. The puss had stopped flowing, but the welt was puffier and was an ailing hue of green.

Chiron must've seen my expression, because he said, "It must get worse before it can get better."

Will came back with Argus just then. Argus took one look at Percy, gave a grunt, and crouched to down to lift him up. Gingerly, he heaved him into his arms and briskly started back to the Big House. I followed, and behind me I heard Chiron thanking Will, and then the hurried trotting of his hooves as he caught up with us.

We arrived at the Big House, and Argus wasted no time in walking purposefully through the door. He weaved through the hall and into the sickroom. Chiron had stopped at the porch, and rejoined us minutes later in his wheelchair.

Argus delicately laid Percy down on the bed, propped up by some pillows, and then retreated to the corner of the room to stand guard. Chiron quickly conjured up some ambrosia and nectar. I took the glass and stuck the straw between Percy's lips. The sickly green gradually disappeared and the color returned to his cheeks. I let out a sigh of relief.

After I thought he'd taken enough nectar for now, I put down the glass and began to dress his wound. I cleaned the welt with hydrogen peroxide—"Mortals do have some good ideas," Chiron remarked fondly—and gently slathered the welt with a special cream that Chiron said would speed the healing process. Lastly, I taped up his hand with gauze, so that it looked like a club.

I leaned back in my chair. "I think that'll do for the time being," I said.

Chiron looked sadly down at Percy. His eyes were so old and worn, like he'd seen too many heroes in this weak state before him.

"Chiron?" I said.

"Yes?"

"What do you think happened?"

He didn't answer for a while. He just stared at Percy's bandaged hand.

"Well, considering it was pit scorpion venom that was used, and pit scorpions are only summoned from the Underworld, I would have to guess that someone had intended for him to get stung, and, unless it was an extremely cruel joke, die."

"But why?" I asked; why would anyone feel the need to hurt, to _kill_ Percy, after he just stopped a war?

"I do not know." Chiron said, his brow furrowed. "But I know the reason must not have been because they were simply angry."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Chiron said. "That only one person would be infuriated at Percy, because the war was halted and because the Titan's rise to power was thwarted. There is only one person who believes that Percy is a vulnerability that must be removed."

"Kronos." I breathed. "But… Kronos couldn't possibly be _here_?"

"No," He agreed. "But that does not mean Kronos doesn't have people working for him, people inside the camp who are faithful to his cause."

"A traitor," I whispered. "Someone has been working for Kronos. But who…?"

"That is one question I do not know the answer to." Chiron said solemnly. "Perhaps Percy does, though…"

We both looked down at his limp form. His chest was steadily rising and falling, and his head had lolled to the side. His skin was rather pale, though, so I picked up the nectar and put the straw in Percy's mouth again. With my free hand, I picked up a washcloth and started dabbing at his forehead, which was unnaturally hot. A strong sense of déjà vu hit me then; this was exactly where we were weeks ago, when Percy had first crossed the boundary line, weakened by his fight with the Minotaur.

As if on cue, he opened his eyes.

His green eyes swept around the room, taking in his surroundings, and then they settled on me. He half-smirked.

"Here we are again," He said.

Relief that he could function enough to joke flooded through me, and I wanted to laugh, or smile, or just do a little jig that he was alive, but all that came out of my mouth was,

"You idiot," But I could barely suppress a smile. "You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing…"

"Now, now, Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit." Chiron said from the foot of Percy's bed, looking weary. "How are you feeling?"

"Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved."

"Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened."

Percy weakly started to tell the story, "I ran into Luke at the arena, and he said that he wanted to talk to me in the woods."

My stomach started to feel uneasy that Luke was involved, but I shrugged it off; Luke couldn't have possibly set that scorpion on Percy… it had to be someone else…

"So we walked around the woods, and found a shady spot near the creek. Luke had brought some cokes—" At this, Chiron narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything. "—so we were drinking them and… and Luke started to talk about his quest, how he was never really recognized. He said he was really angry afterwards, and how he didn't want to up as a 'dusty trophy in the Big House attic.' And then…" Percy paused for a minute to take a drink from the nectar, and then began again in a strained voice. "And then he said he was leaving… and he… he snapped his fingers and the scorpion appeared."

I drew a sharp intake of breath; I felt as if I had just been punched, right in the heart. I couldn't believe… there had to be a mistake…

"And then he said that it was useless to fight, that I might as well just let the scorpion kill me…" Percy's voice was becoming more and more strained. "He said that the darkness was gathering and that the monsters are becoming stronger. He said we were all pawns of the gods, and that their reign should've ended thousands of years ago."

My head was spinning. This wasn't happening…

"He said that the only way to stop Western Civilization from killing the world was by burning it down and starting over. When I told him that he was as crazy as Ares, he said that Ares was fool and that he never realized the 'true master he was serving.'"

I was becoming numb. I didn't want to believe that Luke had betrayed us. There had to be a catch…

"The master he was talking about… it was Kronos."

I closed my eyes tightly; no, Luke was not evil, he could not be serving Kronos…

"Kronos had gotten Luke to steal the master bolt and the helm, when he went on the field trip to Olympus at the winter solstice. He said he took them when the other campers were asleep, right from Zeus's and Hades's thrones.

"He was halfway through New Jersey before anyone realized what was missing. But then… he got overconfident and didn't take the items directly to Kronos. Ares caught him, but Kronos worked through Luke to persuade Ares not to turn him in. He got the idea in Ares's head about a war among the gods, and all he had to do was hide the weapons for a while and watch the others fight. Ares, being the stupid, bloodthirsty, dimwitted, traitor—"

"Go on," Chiron interrupted.

"Oh… yeah. Well, Ares was hooked. He let Luke go—" There was an undeniable edge of anger to his voice. "—and Luke returned before anyone noticed his absence.

"Since Luke had failed to bring the items to Kronos, Kronos said that there would be another hero who would be tricked into taking the bolt and the helm the rest of the way to Tartarus. Me, of course." Percy said bitterly. "So Luke summoned the hellhound that night in the forest, so that you, Chiron, would think it was no longer safe at camp and I would start my quest.

"He cursed those flying shoes. They were meant to take me into Tartarus, but by Grover wearing them, he confused the curse and was able to get out of them.

"Luke said that we've only delayed Kronos's rise to power. He said… he said 'he will cast the Olympians into Tartarus and drive humanity back to their caves.' And before he disappeared, he said that there was a new golden age coming, and that I wasn't part of it."

Silence followed Percy's words. No one spoke for a long time.

I stared at a spot on the floor. Immense betrayal swelled up inside of me, followed by anger.

"I can't believe…" My voice faltered. My anger was still riding high. How could Luke just betray us—betray _me_—like that? Didn't he care about the pain he inflicted? Or did he just lose all touch with his conscience when that cold-hearted Titan got hold of him? "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him…He was never the same after his quest."

"This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once."

"Luke is out there right now," Percy said. "I have to go after him."

Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods—"

"Won't even _talk _about Kronos," he snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!"

"Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready."

Percy sank back in his pillows, allowing defeat. "Chiron… your prophecy from the Oracle… it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? And Annabeth?"

Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—"

"You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?"

Chiron's eyes were sympathetic, but aged, as if what the prophecy had shown him didn't reveal anything good. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you…"

A deafening thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows.

"All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!"

He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing."

"We can't just sit back and do nothing," Percy protested.

"_We_ will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But _you_ must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come."

"Assuming I live that long."

Chiron placed his hand on Percy's ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice…" I got the feeling Chiron knew exactly what Percy ought to do, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise him. "But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision."

Percy looked like he was backing back retorts and protests. The look on Chiron's face, however, told him that he'd said as much as he could.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you."

He then glanced at me. "Oh, and, my dear… whenever you're ready, they're here."

I froze. They were here… my dad was really here.

"Who's here?" Percy asked.

Nobody answered.

Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of chair clunk carefully down the front steps.

I studied the ice in Percy's drink. Everything was happening too fast… now that Luke had fled the camp, the traitor, the last thing I wanted to do was leave. I wanted to stay here and fight back, like Percy. But now I had to go… I didn't have the heart to tell my father that I wasn't coming home after all.

"What's wrong?" Percy asked me.

"Nothing." I set the glass down on the table. "I… just took your advice on something. You… um… need anything?"

"Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside."

"Percy, that isn't a good idea."

He ignored me, sliding his legs out of the bed. I caught him before he could crumple to the floor.

"I told you…"

"I'm fine," He insisted.

He managed a step forward, then another, still leaning heavily on me. Argus followed us outside, keeping his distance.

When we finally reached the porch, Percy was shaking and sweat beaded his face. But he managed to make it to the railing.

Dusk was falling; I hadn't realized how much time had passed. The camp was deserted: the cabins were dark, the volleyball pit was silent, and no canoes cut the smooth surface of the lake.

I glanced towards the hill; sure enough, there was a family of four waiting just outside the boundary line. I saw the silhouette of my two step-brothers, Helen, and my dad, holding my Waterland backpack. Chiron must've given it to him.

I turned away. I didn't want to leave yet.

"What are you going to do?" I asked Percy, diving into a subject to distract me from the four people waiting on the hill.

"I don't know. I've got the feeling Chiron wants me to stay year-round, to train me, but…"

"That's not what you want." I finished. He nodded.

"Though I admit, I'd feel pretty bad if I left you alone, with only Clarisse as company…"

I pursed my lips, and said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy."

He stared at me. "You mean, to your dad's?"

I pointed to the crest of the hill, where they waited.

"I wrote him a letter when we got back," I said. "Just like you suggested. I told him… I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided… we'd give it another try."

"That took guts."

I pursed my lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you?" _Like dousing people in toilet water_, I added in my head. "At least… not without sending me an Iris-message?"

He smiled. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"When I get back next summer," I said. "We'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, and if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?"

"Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

I smiled and held out my hand. He shook it.

"Take care, Seaweed Brain," I told him. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

I left the porch and walked up the hill to join my family. I gave my dad an awkward hug and looked down the valley one last time, my final effort to brand it all into my memory. I then laid a hand on Thalia's pine with careful fingers, and wondered if she could feel my touch.

I allowed myself to be led over the crest and into the mortal world. When we reached the car, an old, dusty station wagon, I slid inside without a word. Bobby and Matthew got in next to me and immediately started talking about the boundary line, and how they couldn't get through it. They had apparently made a game of how far back they could fly when they ran into it.

I rolled my eyes and bit back a laugh. _Boys_; what are you gonna do?

Dad started the car and began to drive. "So," He started. "How was summer?"

I merely smiled. "It's a_ long_ story…"

I turned to the window and gazed behind me, trying to catch a glimpse of Thalia's retreating pine. I caught sight of it, and watched until it was merely a blemish in the Long Island countryside.

I looked back at my step-brothers, who had moved on from the boundary line and were now talking about airplanes, and my dad, who stole a quick glance back at me every once in a while to shoot me a smile.

I leaned back in my seat, and thought that, just maybe, everything would turn out fine.

* * *

**So I just want to start off with saying sorry for keeping you guys waiting for… er… 3 weeks? SORRY! Blame projects and exams and whatnot… actually, blame me. Projects and exams and whatnot ended a week ago, and frankly, I've just been procrastinating. But seriously, I want to give a big thanks to the handful of loyal readers I have. It really means a lot to know that some people actually enjoy reading my work :)**

**And, now that I have my apologizes out of the way, let me start off by pinching myself and saying, "Did I really just finish this?" (I haven't, not once, ever finished a story, published or not.) AHH!**

**I may or may not carry on with the rest of the series. But since I have the whole summer sprawled out before me, I just might start _Sea of Monsters: Annabeth._ (Could y'all inbox me if you want more? That might influence my choice *wink wink*)**

**Now, before I mark this story as 'complete', I have one last request… Review?**


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